


Perception {Dreamnotfound}

by Owl1425



Series: The Lost Souls series {Dreamnotfound} [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 71,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl1425/pseuds/Owl1425
Summary: 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩.Book One of The Lost Souls Series--------------------------George isn't tempted by finding his soulmate. It's just another ridiculous ploy to get him killed. His life is hard enough, running from his hunter alone and inexperienced. You don't make many friends when you block everyone out.So when an outgoing dirty blonde gives him butterflies, George doesn't know what to do. There's something different about him. He's perfect, a little too perfect.But there's no truth here, there's only perception.--------------------------Perception:The way in which something is regarded, understood, or interpreted.- Trigger warnings: scenes of violence/gore, death, panic attacks (you can skip them!)- NO SMUT (never will be in my books)
Relationships: dreamnotfound - Relationship
Series: The Lost Souls series {Dreamnotfound} [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100999
Comments: 196
Kudos: 379





	1. Please Forgive Me

-??? POV-

The boy squirms beneath my grip, gasping for breath as I press my foot further into his stomach. He yells, strangled screams for people who aren't coming to save him. There's nobody for miles around, I planned this perfectly.

"Stop!" he screeches, pathetically launching halfhearted punches at me. That's the strange part, he won't fight back. 

When I first ambushed him, he was willing to put up a strong fight. He had me worried to start with, especially when I first approached him and found out I was tasked with killing someone quite a bit bigger than me. But as soon as he punched me once, he stopped. 

I'm not sure why, but he let his guard down. Maybe reality hit him too hard, the panic of a real fight getting to him in the heat of the moment. 

Pathetic. 

He could've easily taken me, and he knows it. We both do, which is why I was so desperate to catch him off guard. This little wooden shack was pretty perfect. 

You'd have to be bold to set up camp in a less enclosed area, maybe so bold you'd be considered arrogant. But this boy doesn't radiate the narcissism I was expecting when I received his profile. I really did expect more from him.

Oh well, he's made my life easier.

The boy screams again, hair falling into his eyes. I force the tip of my blade in a little, digging a gash into the boy's stomach to stop him squirming. Some sense must wash over him, as his flailing limbs turn stationary. 

"Better. Just calm down" I mutter, narrowing my eyes at my target. His eyes focus on my wrist, specifically the one in which I hold my blade. A little throwing knife I found not too far from here, and took precisely for this purpose. 

I'm not trying to be a messy killer, I'd rather not be a killer at all. But that wasn't my choice to make, I just do what I have to do to survive. It's my life or his, and I've made my choice. Killing this boy is a small price to pay for my freedom.

Either way, I intended to get this over and done with as fast as possible. Dig the blade in and leave it there. A little throwing dagger isn't worth the effort of carrying around, so I wouldn't have to bother retrieving it from the dead body afterwards. 

Part of me was scared I'd break under the pressure, crumble to the floor in a crying mess like I did last time I witnessed someone kill their target. I've seen people die to their hunters first hand, and not all were fast. 

Some were messy, committed by the inexperienced who just got lucky. Others on the opposite end of the scale, experienced and stealthy. People who play their cards right, and people who fuck up under pressure. 

Long distance and quick, up close and bloody. It's sad to say I've seen it all. 

But this time, I'm the one committing the murder.

I'm convinced I've seen psychopaths, who've definitely killed people other than their target before. More for sport than freedom. I'm disgusted by them.

"Please! Please you're doing the wrong thing!" My target has tears in his eyes, shoving away the blade held dangerously close to his abdomen. Next strike could be lethal, and he knows it. 

I didn't even notice he was talking until I snapped back out of my daydreams. I've dreamt of this day for so long.

At last, it has finally come. 

But it shouldn't have. Despite it being how it's meant to be, I can't help but feel this is wrong. It's like there's something in my head, screaming at me to throw the dagger away and head for the hills. 

I'm so close, so close to finally being okay. So close to finally living without fear of them. 

I do this, I win. All I have to do is kill him. So why can't I?

And why hasn't he killed me?

There's so many times I've zoned out, so many times he could've easily switched that blade around and pushed it through my own stomach instead. 

Just the thought of it makes me sick. I'm so inexperienced, barely able to remain conscious from fear. And I'm not even the one getting stabbed.

I'm sorry.

Forgive me, but I have to.

I feel like I should be apologising for what I'm about to do. But it's okay, this is how it's meant to be. We kill our targets, we spend forever with our soulmates happily. That's how it works.

Soulmates. 

This boy probably has one of his own...

Sorry unknown lover, I'm a terrible person. Even though I can kill him, I don't want to. 

But I have to.

It just feels so wrong.

"You realise I could've killed you..." he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I could've, but I haven't. There's a reason why."

My grip on the dagger falters, fingers going white as I tighten them around the hilt nervously. Trembling with fear, like the pathetic boy I am. 

Just kill him you idiot!

"Wh-what do you mean?" Despite my attempts to keep it even, my voice breaks and cracks. Pure fear on my face, raw and on show for everyone to see. Worthless, I'm the most pathetic hunter to ever exist. This is how it's meant to be. 

So why does it feel so wrong?!

Though sheer will alone, I squeeze my eyes shut and push the dagger down. A bloodcurdling scream shakes this neck of the woods, his final pleas audible for miles around.

"You're making this worse! Just sit still!" I plead, unable to open my eyes. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I have to kill you! That's how this works!"

"No it's not! You've got this all wrong, let me go!" 

He pulls at my glove, presumably trying to take the dagger away. His panic is blind, whatever control he once had blanketed by fear. 

"Please just stop! I want to make this as painless as possible! You're not helping! I've already got to live with the guilt of killing you! I'm sorry!"

A finger brushes my eyelashes, pulling my eye open. Before me is the boy, remaining surprisingly steady. He holds a hand up to my eyes, signalling to a band on his left wrist. It looks like a bracelet, but upon closer inspection, it isn't.

He's got one. That makes it so much worse.

"I'm sorry to your soulmate" I whisper, my voice croaking as I hold back my own sobs. This is awful, I hate it. Why do I have to do this?!

His eyes soften, clouding over as blood loss slowly takes his life away. Another soulmate who'll find their boyfriend dead. 

Because of me. I've ruined their future. Selfishly. But this is how it's allowed to be, it's okay to kill him. Only him.

Unless they save him, that is. If you haven't already killed your target, you can save your soulmate. Kill your target, and your soulmate comes back to life. 

There's about to be another person with a black band instead of a coloured one. Soulmate bands turn black once your soulmate dies, the colour returns if you 'revive' your soulmate.

Of course, this means you can only do it once. Once you kill your target, you aren't given a new one. You're given freedom from your own hunter, which is exactly what I'm after.

And the price is this boy's life.

Maybe my own band is black. I've not looked at my own band, I honestly couldn't care. You can't trust anyone in this world. 

My love isn't decided by some stupid band that lights up like some stupid Skechers when you meet 'the love of your life'. It's like something out of a fairytale. This world isn't a fairytale.

It's more like a nightmare. You have to kill someone for your happiness. Sick and twisted, not happy. There's no happy endings for murderers.

Murderers. 

And I'm about to become one.

"Just... please" I beg, pressing my knees into the boy's chest. "Stay still. I promise I'll make it as quick as I can."

To my surprise, the boy doesn't move. He watches me distraughtly, probably thinking about his soulmate. "You're doing the wrong thing" he repeats quietly. "This isn't how it's meant to be."

My body trembles in fear as I fight to keep hold of my blade. Unconsciousness is tempting, it'd be so easy to slip into it and forget this ever happened. I hate this world, I hate it so much. 

I just want to be happy.

Is that so much to ask?

Slowly, I position the knife over his chest. My grip falters again, causing me to drop the blade. It falls into the body of my target, making a sickening noise. I can't look at him, I can't accept what I've done. 

His body goes limp beneath me, cold and lifeless. I'm brought to tears over a random boy, who I've killed because of this world. 

This is how it's meant to be. 

This is how it's meant to be.

This is how-

"No" I whisper to nobody, eyes desperately shut as if it'll erase my crime. Except it's not a crime, it's ok. It's ok to kill him, I'm allowed to. 

So why does it feel so wrong?

Just because I'm allowed to doesn't make it right. 

I hang my head in shame, knowing I've succumbed to the cruel ways of this world. My vision blurs as I shiver in fear, crying over a boy I'd never even met before. 

Consciousness slips away from me, and I welcome the oblivion with open arms, like it'll rid me of what I've done.

It's not fair. I shouldn't have to kill. I shouldn't, but I do. It's not fair. It's not fair, it's not fair.

No, it's not. 

But nothing ever is here.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Your soulmate deserves better. You deserved better. I'll remember you, whether I want to or not."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to, I swear. If I didn't have to, I wouldn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Please forgive me."


	2. Trust Me

-Returning to the present day...-

~~~

-George's POV-

"Good morning sunshine."

My eyes fly open at the sound of someone's voice. On instinct, I reach to my left for my axe. In distress I realise it's not there, and I'm not laying on the wooden floor like I was when I passed out. 

So who saved me? 

"Uh... hello?"

Oh. 

I'm met with someone staring into my eyes, unnervingly close to my face. A boy, roughly my age, maybe a little younger. But taller, definitely taller. 

Most of his face is hidden by a mask. A white mask, with a smiley face drawn on the front. It's a little unsettling, especially when I can't make up my mind as to whether it's a friendly or threatening smile. Either way, it's creepy.

You must've saved me.

The boy impatiently rams his boots into my leg, sitting on the grass opposite me. There's little slits in his mask that barely reveal his eyes. I'd guess they were green, but I'm not sure. Protanopia makes it hard to distinguish those sorts of colours especially.

The rest of his outfit probably matches. A similarly coloured hoodie, the zip open to reveal a presumably white sweatshirt beneath. It's covered in blood, as are his grey trousers. Boots which could be brown, ideal for traversing the forest with. He's definitely equipped, whoever he is. Probably experienced.

But his clothes are so bloody.

"Are you just going to sit there like an idiot or prove to me you aren't one?"

He stands before me, offering me a hand up. I debate whether I should take it for a few seconds before remembering he did just save my life.

Unsurely, I clasp my hand around his. He smiles, gently pulling me to my feet. My legs feel like jelly beneath me, barely capable of holding me. The stranger seems to notice, helping me sit back down again. 

"Oh my god you're short" he comments snidely, lowering me back to the floor. I lean myself against a tree, watching the boy tower over me. He sits beside me, rummaging through my bag like it's his. 

"Who the hell are you?!"

The boy turns to me, halfway through lighting a match he stole from my bag. His look is hollow, staring at me like I'm crazy. "Did you hit your head or something?"

As if taunting me, the left side of my forehead suddenly begins the throb. It distorts the forest, an area of the woods I don't recognise. So we must've left the western sector. 

The stranger approaches me, leaning in to examine my face. For some reason, he doesn't seem cautious at all. Then there's me, quivering from the sight of the stranger before me despite what he did. 

"Maybe..." I mutter, rubbing my forehead and pushing him away. He's close, far too close. 

Hurt registers in his eyes for a second before he drops it. His legs curl up beneath him, discarding the match back in my backpack. "Alright. So tell me shortie, what do you remember?"

"I-" My forehead throbs uncontrollably, causing me to wince in pain. The other boy moves towards me again in concern, but I push him away. "I- was attacked by my hunter..." I begin, trying to recall what happened. "And you saved me. You broke in and saved me from them."

He watches me unsurely, like I'll collapse again at any second. Sadly, he's probably not wrong. I could easily fall back out of consciousness just as quickly as I fell into it.

"Alright..." he nods slowly. "So why are you being so mean to your saviour?" Despite the mask, I can tell there's a cocky smile on the face hidden behind.

I scoff, watching him unsurely. "Why are you being so nice to someone you just met. And why the hell did you save me?!" 

The boy shrugs, brushing off my questions absentmindedly. "What's your name then?" he asks, watching me with those pretty eyes. 

"I-" 

He saved your life George...

"I'm George" I awkwardly extend a hand in greeting. "And you are?" 

"Dream. Nice to meet you George." 'Dream' takes my hand, shaking it with a little more force than necessary.

"Dream?" I splutter. "Okay, funny. What's your actual name?"

Coldness fills his eyes suddenly, freezing the warmth that resides there merely a few seconds ago. "My name is Dream. Drop the conversation."

I let out another scoff, disbelieving of this idiot. "You expect me to trust you when you won't even tell me your name?" 

'Dream' suddenly stands, taking a few steps closer. "I just saved your life you ungrateful idiot!" he snarls, biting back more venomous words he's clearly desperate to say. I appreciate the effort at least.

"Alright..." I sigh. "Sorry. And thanks, you didn't have to save me."

The warmth slowly returns to his eyes. "Better. You're welcome. I know it's weird, but just go with it." He rummages through my bag, pulling out my feeble collection of medical supplies. 

"And please, before you do, don't ask me about the mask. It's a trust issues sort of thing."

Alright then. 

He turns away, going shy. "Plus it's nasty. My face is covered in scars." Sympathy I didn't know I was capable of having floods me, heart going soft for this poor boy. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you're pretty anyway-"

Don't say it don't say it-

"-Well, you have pretty eyes at least."

Goddamnit George...

Dream turns back to face me, searching among my things for something. "You got a thing for green eyes?" He laughs, pulling down his hood to reveal the hair underneath. 

I don't know what colour it is, but it looks pretty light. Messy and unkept, but still somehow presentable. Dream flips his hair, despite it being cut short. "I'm also a blonde. Perfect, I know. Please try not to faint."

Oh my god...

He's obnoxious, but in a funny way. It's kind of cute. 

"Why're you so confident?" I ask shyly, suddenly really wishing I also had a mask to cover my face. It suddenly makes sense to wear one after all. He shrugs, raging in my bag and pulling out some bandages. "Dunno. Guess you've got to have some fun somehow."

We sit awkwardly, Dream trying to organise my things as I try to organise my thoughts. I was attacked by my hunter, and Dream stepped in just before I died.

Is my hunter dead?!

"Dream did you kill my hunter?!" I ask nervously. My image of my hunter is blurred, I was falling in and out of consciousness the whole time. He was pretty tall, taller than me at least. His clothes were odd too.

He shakes his head bitterly. "No. He escaped just before I got to him, but I think I injured him pretty badly."

Slowly, I look up and down the bloodied clothes. "Yeah, your clothes kind of... suggested that much."

"Yeah..." 

Silence drags on, forcing one of us to speak up. Dream decides to break the silence first. Sitting opposite me and handing me over the bandages. 

"Alright then Georgie. Let's get to know each other now that we're here."

Georgie. 

"Alright" I force myself to smile. "You can go first."

I'm putting my faith in someone. It's been so long since I trusted anyone even slightly. But here I am, forced to trust this idiot. 

At least he's a cute idiot.


	3. Nice To Meet You

"Alright" Dream stretches his arms before him, clearing his throat as if he's preparing for a speech. "My name is Dream. I'm 20, and I've been travelling on my own for a while. Almost nobody knows what I look like under this mask." He points to the smiley face. 

"Or what my real name is. I'm known as Dream. Oh, and my favourite colour is green."

I nod, slowly taking in the information as I've learnt to over the years. Observing is important, especially when you need to hunt someone down. Currently, I've not even encountered my target once.

"Ok then. My name is George, and I'm 23. I've been travelling alone for as long as I can remember. I'm currently trying to track down my target, but still need to retrieve their profile from the hub."

Dream nods, appearing to be smiling beneath his mask. "And your favourite colour?" 

I was trying to avoid that...

"I'm... colourblind" I mutter quietly. "But of the few colours I can see, I like... I think it's blue?" I tug my shirt, indicating towards it. "Like this."

"Oh." Dream stares blankly at me, with a sad look in his eyes. I hate that look, it's like pity. 

"Don't pity me" I spit a little too unkindly. "It's all I've ever known, it's not like I've ever seen colours properly in the first place." 

He signs, looking away in embarrassment. "Sorry... it's just... that's really sad...." 

Awkward silence. 

"So... you couldn't tell I was blonde, or that my eyes were green?" I shake my head slowly. He gasps with a look so upset I regret telling him I'm colourblind in the first place. "Oh my god I'm so stupid..." he mutters to the floor.

"That's ok, you couldn't tell." 

Dream recoils into himself, suddenly losing the confidence he had merely a few minutes ago. Confidence or arrogance, I'm still not sure which.

"Alright then..." he drawls, wrapping and unwrapping the bandages around his hands for no apparent. "Stop that!" I yell upon realising. "You'll get the bandages all bloody!" 

He probably smirks, pushing the blonde hair away from his face as he pulls his hood back over it. I watch him nervously, a little upset that I can't see his face. 

"You miss my pretty hair? I know, it's gorgeous, but the world can only handle so much beauty at once." 

I roll my eyes, a blush creeping across my pale face. "Oh my god you're so obnoxious. Give me those-" 

Just as I lunge for the bandages he still hasn't let go of, Dream turns away. Facing away from me, he quickly pulls out his blade and slices through something. 

When he turns back to face me, the mask is smaller. His mouth is now visible, enabling me to distinguish his emotions a little more. A couple freckles are visible over the bottom of his cheeks.

That's so cute...

"Better Georgie?" he asks smugly, returning his blade to its' holder. "Stop calling me that!" I protest, snagging the bandages out of his hands. "Why are you so comfortable with this? We've only just met!" 

Dream's face scrunches in confusion. "What do you mean? We're just talking, it's not like a walked up to you and asked for a kiss."

Bloody spots litter the bandages where he held them, causing me to scowl. Careless, and reckless to save someone he doesn't know. "Pfft. I'm not your soulmate idiot. Save your kisses for them."

Dream looks uncomfortable at the mention of soulmates. It's then that I realise he wears gloves, hiding his soulmate band, just as I do. 

I've not looked at that band in months, but I've not seen anyone except Dream and my hunter in longer. For all I know, my soulmate could be dead. But I decide to drop the subject after one final question due to the look on the blonde's face. 

"Is your soulmate... dead?" I ask slowly. He shakes his head, eyes drifting to my covered wrist. "I've not found mine yet. That's why I saved you, I want to meet them. But I guess it's not you..." 

He tugs nervously at his gloves, as if ashamed there's no coloured band beneath them. If he hasn't met his soulmate yet, he won't have a band at all. 

"I mean... have we touched at all?" I ask, cringing at myself immediately after and wishing I could shove the words back down my throat. 

You discover your soulmate by touching them for the first time. If you've met them, matching coloured bands will appear around your left wrists. 

The colour depends on the people. It'll be a mix of the soulmate's favourite colours. So if Dream and I were soulmates, our soulmate band would've been cyan. A mix of my favourite colour: blue, and his: green. 

"Yes!" he replies a little quickly. "Don't you remember? I pushed you out of the way." 

No, I don't. But I don't remember a lot about what happened. I'm forced to take his word for it, my own memories too blurred. 

"Oh. Thanks."

He smiles sweetly at me. "No problem. Now are you going to use those bandages or not?" 

Our eyes trail in sync to the roll I still hold in my hand. "Oh" I mutter. "Yeah, I should probably do that."

Cleaning our wounds isn't fun. Dream seems far worse off than I am, my hunter must've stabbed him quite a few times.   
He's got a pretty deep cut in his stomach, some littering his arms. 

There's a nasty cut across my head, I can feel it. But I can't see it, which makes it so much harder to clean and bandage.

"So what do you actually remember? You didn't answer me very well" Dream hollers from the stream. Conveniently, the river isn't too far from here. We must be nearer the South sector, but presumably not far from the centre.

"I told you" I yell back, wincing when I accidentally touch the cut in my forehead. "My hunter attacked me, and you stepped in. Pretty sure I fainted almost instantly after I was attacked."

"Yeah you did, you big baby" he snorts.

"Hey!" I pick up a few pebbles and throw them in his direction. Most don't reach him, scattering a few metres a way. But one does, hitting his outstretched leg. "Like to see how you'd react if you were suddenly stabbed."

"Hah" Dream smirks, returning his attention to me. "I already did. Multiple times, I should add." 

He slowly gets to his feet, signalling to his worst wounds. One in his left leg, three in his stomach. There's probably more on his face, he mentioned earlier there are a few particularly nasty cuts there. 

Well one things for sure; my hunter is lethal. 

"Bet you regret that" I mutter, unable to help feeling bad. Despite only knowing this boy for a short period of time, I can't help but feel awful for getting him injured. I'm not even sympathetic that often, but guilt wracks me now.

"Actually, I don't, I got a friend out of it" Dream gives me a soft smile. 

"Pfft. Cheesy" I roll my eyes, turning away to hide my blush. "You were that desperate to risk your life?"

"Apparently so."

He said he saved me on the off-chance we were soulmates. Even if I was and had died, he could've saved me. Presuming he hasn't already, he could kill his target to receive his soulmate.

One of the few mercies of this world. If your soulmate dies, you have a chance to revive them. Kill your target, and they are revived. 

However, you're only assigned one target. That means, that once you kill them, you can't do it again. So living forever isn't possible, just reviving once. Like a second life. 

If you kill your target before your soulmate dies, you can't kill them again to return your soulmate. That's why most don't go after their targets from the beginning. But then you risk being caught by your own hunter, and live in constant fear of them. 

So people are forced to make a choice: Save killing your target until your soulmate dies, so that you can revive them. Or kill them as soon as possible to ensure your safety. 

Killing your target means your hunter will be reassigned a new one. Once you kill your target, you'll never be hunted ever again. You're safe. A chance to live your life without fear of your hunter. 

Heaven. 

Sounds like heaven, but is it worth murder? 

Sleepless nights from fear of being attacked, or sleepless nights from the guilt of what you've done.

A life for a life.

Which brings about the third option: don't kill at all. Love your entire life in constant fear of your hunter. Some can't justify killing, and some can't physically do it.

Killing for your own safety. Some don't care for their soulmates, and would rather know they're safe than risk their lives for someone they've never met. Whether they're their alleged 'love of their live' or not.

In my eyes, none of it's worth it. 

"So have you ever seen your target before?" Dream asks, cutting through my thoughts. He's finished bandaging his leg, watching me with wary eyes. There's blood seeping from beneath his mask, but not an alarming amount.

"No. I hadn't even seen my hunter before now, not that I remember what he looks like."

My fingers slip as I try to tie the bandage around my head, wishing I had something else to use instead. Or a mirror, that would work too.

"You want some help with that?" Dream asks, somehow ending up in front of me while I wasn't paying attention.

This is probably how your hunter almost killed you in the first place George...

At least your hunter can't be your soulmate. You can't be assigned your soulmate as your target, another of the few mercies in this world. 

I'm too busy daydreaming. Daydreaming of a better world, or of something random. Now I'm hanging around with a guy called Dream.

Hilarious.

"No!" I back up quickly, hitting my head into the tree behind me. Dream cringes as I hold my head, groaning from the pain caused on impact with the tree. "I mean, no thanks" I quickly correct, worried I'm being too harsh. 

Trusting people is hard. To put your faith in someone after being alone for so long is worse. Some like Dream must crave human interaction. I'm definitely the opposite.

"Don't you trust me?" he asks, hurt in his apparently green eyes. 

"Why do you trust me?! You won't show me your face because of 'trust issues', yet you expect me to trust you?!"

"Okay" he mutters quietly, backing up in defeat. "Okay, fair enough."

After a few more attempts, I can't bandage my head. As stupid as it probably is, I decide to leave it open instead of letting Dream help. That's how bad my trust issues are, I can't trust someone who saved my damn life.

At least the wound is clean.

"So, you looking for your soulmate, or your target?" the blonde suddenly asks, seeming desperate to keep conversation going. 

How am I supposed to answer a question when I don't know the answer myself?!

"I'm... not sure. But I should probably retrieve my target's profile anyway."

When you're assigned a target, their information is available to you. You're given a picture of them, the only thing you have to go off of. It's not much, but it's better than nothing 

The profiles are stored in the hub in the centre city. You can retrieve them whenever. 

"Whats the point in having their profile yet? Don't you want to meet your soulmate?" Dream asks in shock.

"Honestly, as crazy as it may seem, not really. Finding your soulmate just sounds like another ploy to get me killed. Can your soulmate be your hunter?!"

"No! That's impossible!" Dream responds quickly. "At least I think it is..."

Suddenly, I get to my feet. The effort it takes is worrying, but I manage. "Alright. Well I'm heading the centre city. Come if you want, or don't. That's up to you."

As I walk of, my footsteps are matched immediately. Dream is at my side, smiling brightly. "I didn't save your ass for nothing" he shrugs casually in way of explanation.

Guess I have a friend in this cold world.


	4. The Costs Of Kills

"WHY DOES THIS TAKE SO LONG?!" Dream whined for maybe the fifth time this half hour. He's being dramatic, the trip to central city isn't that far. It's two hours at best, and we've been going for not even half an hour. I'm already regretting letting him tag along.

"You never been to central city before?!" I ask rolling my eyes at the whining boy. "Nope. Never had reason to. I'm not interested in finding my target until I find my soulmate. Staying in central city is a death trap."

He's not wrong. The city is always full of people, generally people stocking up on supplies or retrieving their target profiles from the hub. You get in and out, as fast as possible. It's like navigating a minefield.

"Fair point. But what is your obsession with soulmates? Don't you at least want to know what they look like incase you meet them? Then you can keep watch of where they go if you ever need them."

Dream shrugs, kicking at the pebbles beneath our feet as we walk. "I don't want to spend my life trying to kill someone George. I want to spend it with someone I love." He sighs, looking around at the trees. "Pretty world, fucked up system. Don't know how the hell you've coped for so long without even seeing colours."

It hadn't occurred to me until just then that I won't be able to tell the colours apart on my target. Distinguishing if their hair is blonde or brown, green or hazel eyes. A near impossible task for me, I could easily get the wrong person.

"Do we have to go to the city? It's dangerous, and probably not worth the trip. What if your hunter attacks you again?" Dream protests. 

That surprises me. Dream doesn't seem like the type to act cautious. Reckless, would be more accurate, the complete opposite. 

"Yes we have to go, I want to get my target's profile. You should have yours too."

Dream shakes his head far too quickly to be normal. "No! I don't want mine! I don't want to kill someone for no reason George! If I know who my target is, I'll kill them on the spot! I know it, and I don't want that to happen. I'd rather not know."

I sigh, checking my compass to make sure we're heading the right way still. "What gets me is the guilt. Why should you kill one person, but not another? Why does your 'soulmate' get priority to live over someone else? It's not fair."

Dream shoots me a look, one that suggests he thinks I'm being stupid. "But you can justify killing someone to save your own life? Selfish, if you ask me. I don't want to kill someone, but if they threaten the people I care about I will." 

We walk in tense silence, both of us hating every second of it. As much as I hate listening to him whine like a child, it's somehow better than the awkward silence currently handing thick in the air. 

"So you'd kill someone if they tried to kill your soulmate, but not yourself?" I ask, contemplating if he's crazy. So he'd just let someone kill him?!

"No. I'd kill someone if they attacked me, or if they attacked my soulmate. Or my friends, for that matter." 

From the way he gazes anywhere away from me, I can tell he's embarrassed. Probably blushing. 

"Despite the fact I knew we weren't soulmates as soon as I stepped in to help, I didn't run away. Know that if it came to it, I'd kill your hunter just to save you." 

My heart warms unsettlingly at his words. He'd kill for me, despite me not being his soulmate. Ridiculous.

"Pfft. I'll believe it when I see it" I mutter, snorting at his stupidity. Most people can't kill, I doubt he would if it came to it. Maybe for his soulmate, but not for me.

"You better hope you don't ever see it" he remarks sarcastically. "Your hunter would've killed you if I hadn't stepped in. He seems pretty lethal." 

"What did he look like? Did you see?" I ask, somehow unable to remember myself. I can't even vaguely remember what he looked like. 

"No. He had a mask covering his face, and a hood over his hair." Dream scrunches up his eyes in thought. "But he was about my height, and similar in build. Some red in his clothes, but that might've just been blood."

"How very helpful of you."

Dream scoffs. "I'm terribly sorry, I was a little busy getting stabbed trying to save your ass." 

I roll my eyes. "Fair enough. Guess I'll let you off this time."

"You better, you ungrateful shortie."

"Pissbaby."

Dream narrows his eyes jokingly, lips curling into a smile. "Oh I am NOT a pissbaby."

I laugh for the first time in months. It's strange, having not done it in so long. It feels nice. I miss laughing. "Says the kid who's been complaining for the past half hour."

"Okay no I'm THREE years younger than you. And a hell of a load taller." He waves his hand over our heads, pointing out our height difference. Our height difference is pretty big, not at all helping my point. He's probably about half an foot taller than me. 

Those glaring six inches seem to mock me as I argue back. "You're still acting like a child. Height has nothing to do with maturity."

He snorts. "Oh and three years does? We're both adults." 

"Yes but I'm older. Older people are more mature."

Dream makes a noise so high pitched I'm surprised I can actually hear it. It's like he's letting off steam. He looks me up and down for emphasis as he laughs weirdly. "Well I happen to know someone who contradicts your claim."

I elbow him in the stomach, shoving him away playfully. "Idiot" I mutter, watching the blonde wheeze ridiculously. "Why did I let you hang around with me again?" 

As he finishes laughing, his look turns more serious. "Because you can't tell red from orange. How the hell do you expect to find your target when you can't pick them out in a crowd?"

Stupid. "If I can't tell what colour their hair is to tell them apart, how the hell can I tell everyone else's hair apart?! It doesn't help me unless I can tell apart every colour." It dawns on me I'm at more of a disadvantage than I thought.

"Exactly. That's why I'm here. I'll help teach you colours!" His face lights up in a bright smile, and I hate to admit it's cute. "Oh and I'm also here because I'm the only one stupid enough to save you."

That comment earns him another elbow to the stomach. He doubles over, clutching at his stomach. I smile, thinking that I've overpowered him for once, until he doesn't stop. His other arm reaches out in front of him, gripping for my sleeve as he falls to the floor.

It would've alarmed me, had he not made it so dramatic.

"Beautiful acting." I clap slowly, making sure to drag it out enough to the point it's annoying. "Beautiful sarcasm" he retorts, getting back to his feet. "Can't blame me for trying to inject some fun into our walk. You're ridiculously dull."

"Thanks" I spit sarcastically, offering him a smile before walking off. He follows close behind, stopping every so often and somehow catching back up effortlessly.

~~~

"What are you doing?" I ask when he disappears for maybe the tenth time.

"You'll see!" Is my response, yelled from far off. 

It sound like he's...

Dream falls to the floor right in front of me, almost giving me a heart attack. I reach for my sword on instinct, gripping it with shaking hands and aiming the blade forwards. 

"You're not a good fighter Georgie" he comments, idly aiming the blade away from him. He's extremely calm for someone who's stomach was barely an inch away from a sword point.

"I almost shoved this thing straight through your stomach idiot!" I yell back, more in anger of looking stupid in front of him than anything. "No you didn't. You couldn't have if you tried." He steps a little closer, whispering into my ear.

"Besides Georgie, you can't do anything straight."

"Wh-WHAT?!" I shriek, pocketing my blade and stumbling away from him. Dream laughs in that ridiculous way again, actually doubling over this time and clutching his sides. 

"You're ridiculous..." I mutter, unable to hide the blush creeping across my face. 

This only causes Dream to laugh even harder, tears streaming down his cheeks from under his mask. "You're ridiculous" he laughs, making a noise at least four octaves higher than physically possible. 

My eyes drift up to the sky as the light disappears. Rain starts to pour as the sunlight disappears. Nightfall and rain at the same time, fantastic. "Ugh we're still more than an hour away! Guess we'll have to wait it out here." 

I search the surroundings for a tree high enough up to stay in. Most here are low, the taller ones slightly off course. Not too far though, we should make it pretty quickly.

"I hate the rain! Ugh!" I yell in frustration to the rain, as if it'll hear me.

"Oh I hate the rain! I'm George!" Dream mimics, using his hands like puppets to imitate talking. 

"Shut it" I snap, hiding the fact I thought he was a little funny. "There's some taller trees over here, come on." 

Dream opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't get a chance before I run off. He's matching my steps almost instantly after, catching up to me with ease. He'd be a lot faster if he didn't have to clutch his stomach. 

In my planning for the night, I didn't remember Dream has wounds in his stomach. I thankfully don't, but there's no way he can climb a tree. Judging by my regularly blurring vision due to my head injury, I probably couldn't either.

Dream catches on pretty quickly. "George I can't climb a tree in this state and neither can you. Where are we going?"

Passing through the woods, I notice something. A large tree, probably a willow tree, beside the river. There's a hollow in the bottom, perfect for taking refuge. We'll just have to barricade ourselves in.

"Here!" When Dream doesn't follow, I grab his hand and tug him in the right direction. There's something strange about the touch. His hands are surprisingly warm, and I hate to admit I want to hold it. 

Just for the warmth though, nothing more.

It's comforting, and I hate it. Despite my attempts to push him away, I want to edge closer. 

The best way to describe it is like the sensation you get watching a car crash. You know you should look away, but you just can't. 

That's the same sensation I get with Dream. I know I shouldn't trust him, but I really want to. 

Maybe it's a lack of comfort, maybe it's him, but I can't push him away. There's something safe about him. Even though we've only just met, I feel safe around him. 

But for all I know, he could be lying to me. Maybe I'm his target after all, and he's pulling me into a false sense of security just so he can slit my throat when I'm asleep.

That's not comforting.

Somehow I find myself almost wanting to think like that. It's like I want him to be dangerous. I'm searching for a reason to push him away, but I can't find one. How annoying it is when you spend your life trying to get out of a box, but you secretly want to stay in it.

Just because you can. Guilty pleasure, I just want to feel safe. I'm so alone in this world, and then some cute boy appears out of nowhere and saves my life. It's like something out of a dream, how ironic.

Hilarious. Maybe that's why his name is Dream. This is all just some practical joke. I've probably gone insane. It's been so long since I've seen people I've probably started hallucinating them instead. Because I'm that lonely.

God I hate being alone...


	5. A Red Peony

If you're a hallucination, why did I make you so annoying?

And pretty, god why are you so pretty?

I can't even see your whole face and you're pretty-

"Earth to George?" Dream stands beside me, pushing our belongings against the entrance to the alcove. He seems to have found some spare branches, which work pretty well as a barricade. 

"What?! Wait- yes I'm here!" I snap out of my thoughts and turn my attention back to him. Always him, has been since I wake up. That's what he gets for being cute.

I'm being so ridiculous...

"That ought to do it... right?" Dream looks to me for approval, like some child wanting praise for their work. "Think so. It blends in pretty well at least, even if it's not that thick."

Only when we both sit down do we realise how small it really is. Maybe a metre wide each way, giving us a roughly shaped box. It's like being stuck in a wardrobe. 

The worst part is we're almost on top of each other, our bags take up a large portion of the alcove, as well as our barricade. Laying down definitely isn't an option. Good thing neither of us are claustrophobic.

I curl up into a ball, scooting as close to the alcove wall as physically possible. When I'm pressed up against the wall, I lay down. My vision is blurring badly, a little unsettlingly. 

Dream does the same, having to curl his knees into his chest because he's so tall. For once, I'm glad to be short. 

He looks worried. Anxious, as he nervously presses himself up against the opposite side. "Are you claustrophobic?" I ask quietly. He shakes his head, holding his mask tightly.

Oh.

"You're worried I'm going to take off your mask while you're asleep, aren't you?" He nods shyly, afraid to admit it. "Trust issues. I get it. Well, let's have an agreement..." 

"What are you on about?" he asks, giving me a weird look. I extend my hand towards him awkwardly. "I'll promise you I won't move your mask, as long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep."

Dream snorts, extending his hand to take mine. I pull back at the last second, adjusting my deal. "Oh and don't come anywhere near me. Alright?" 

The blonde rolls his eyes. "As if I'd want to" he smirks, awkwardly shaking my hand. 

We sit in comfortable silence for barley half an hour before Dream starts huffing. "This is useless. I don't sleep at this time normally, and I can't well." 

I stretch, pushing myself up into a seated position. "You should learn to adapt better" I yawn, stretching my legs as far as I can in this small space. 

"It's not that easy to change your sleep schedule idiot" he retorts, searching through his bag for something. Dream pulls out a bunch of flowers, varying in size and probably colour. 

"What are those for?" I ask, suddenly realising what he must've been doing earlier while we walked. He sorts the flowers out, maybe in a certain order, maybe not. I can't tell if he does.

"Well you need to learn colours. Nobody has ever taught you them, so I'm going to do it!" He smiles sweetly, pausing as he looks at a flower identical to a separate one laying before us. A peony, a dark shade of yellow to me, but probably different to him.

"Whoops. I got one too many." His eyes trail from the flower to me, then back again. Petals fall to the floor as he messes with the flower nervously, destroying it slowly. 

Slowly, he leans towards me. I can't move backwards, so I let it happen. Dream carefully parts my hair, pushing the stem of the flower into it. He adjusts a few petals, attempting to straighten them.

"Looks nice in your hair. Shame you can't see it, but red suits you." He smiles sickeningly sweetly, blushing a little as he moves away. I'm not sure how to feel, so I ignore it. "So why have you brought all these flowers around with you?"

I pick up one of the flowers, and he takes it from my hands, placing it back in the line where I took it from. "So you can probably tell that these are all different colours. I'm not sure how colourblindness works exactly, so bear with me..."

He looks from me to the flowers, readjusting the order a little. "Okay, so. Try putting these in colour order. You know the order of the rainbow right?" I nod, suddenly a little more upset I've never seen a rainbow.

"Perfect. I'm trying to figure out how your colourblindness works. Just put the darkest colour at one end, and the lightest at the other. Maybe red is the lightest, and violet the darkest. It could help."

Carefully, I try my hardest to arrange the flowers in what I think might be colour order. Putting the lighter yellows at one end, the darker at the other. Knowing blue is after yellow, I'm able to put the three blue-ish flowers at the end.

My frustration peaks when I look between two murky shades of yellow. They're practically identical to me, I can't understand how they're two completely different colours to everyone else.

"Dream I can't do this..." I whine pathetically, squinting my eyes at the flowers as if it'll help me distinguish their colours better. His gaze leaves from me, looking between the arrangement I've made and the two flowers remaining in my hands. 

"Red and green" he examines, looking between my fave and one of the flowers. "Alright. My hoodie is green..." he looks down at his hoodie, noticing almost every inch of it is covered in blood, which I happen to know is red. 

"Oh" he says quietly. "Well..." 

His eyes drift to my hair, specifically to the flower in it. "That flower I gave you earlier. I told you it's red. That any help?" 

I look between the two flowers in my hands, notching one of the same shape of the flower in my hair. I set that one down near the middle, placing the other behind it. "That one is red" I point to the first flower, then to the second. "And that's green." 

As I say the names, I realise red doesn't go in the middle of the rainbow. I quickly adjust my list, placing red at the front and counting down the list. 

Green is after yellow, and I can tell yellow apart more easily. So I use that to organise the rest of the list. It's also before blue, another colour I can distinguish pretty well.

"Well that's my order. The red one is darker than the orange one, but I know red is first."

Dream nods, looking sadly at the flowers before me. "Alright, not bad. So you can tell apart blue and yellow a lot better, it seems..." 

"Yellow and blue are the only colours I can actually see" I comment, looking at my list from a different perspective. To him, that's the colour of the rainbow. To me, that's four yellow flowers of varying shades, and three blue.

It's all about perception. What looks like one thing to someone looks like another to the rest.

"Oh. Well that makes a little more sense..." he picks up two flowers, swapping their positions. He moves another.

And another.

And another.

"Use comparisons to your advantage" Dream look between me and the other peony from the list. "You know that blood is red. If you have blood on you clothes, use it to compare what's also red. Look for a shade of yellow that matches it." 

Dream looks down at his own clothes. "And if you have blood on your clothes, also check for new wounds" he adds with a laugh. I giggle at his attempt to lighten the mood, appreciating his dry humour.

"So this..." he indicates to the newly-sorted list. "Is their actual order. Notice anything?"

I look at the new arrangement in confusion. The yellows are still all collected at one end, the blues at the other. 

Surprisingly, I got the three colours I see as blue correct. They darken in order, the lightest being just 'blue' and the darkest 'violet'. 

The yellow end is where I went wrong. The darkest shade of yellow is first, then a lighter one. After that is 'yellow', which is the lightest shade. Then green, the second darkest shade. 

"What the hell is that?!" I mutter, picking up the flowers and comparing their shades. Doesn't matter if I mess up the list, Dream can fix it in a few seconds. It's easy for him, second nature. Sort of thing they did in preschool.

I look to Dream to see if he's playing a prank on me. The order is so messed up I wouldn't be surprised if it was wrong. I'm met with a warm smile, sad yet comforting. He's not playing around.

"So you can't distinguish yellows..." he observes. You're completely blind to green and red. Can see yellow and blue, and sort the ones you see as blue correctly as they go from lightest to darkest.

He collects back up the flowers, leaving the one in my hair. "So you have protanopia" he comments casually.

"Prota-what?"

"Protanopia. Red-green colourblindness. It's also the only type of colourblindness I know the name of."

"Okay..." Well at least Dream knows a little more about what's going on now. He knows what I have, and we can work from that.

Maybe my colourblindness won't pose too much of a problem after all.


	6. Trust

-George's POV-

Sleeping has always been hard for me. That's probably normal, when I'm constantly all alone and moving from place to place. Permanent residence isn't common, as the only suitable places to do so are in central city.

If you're braving staying in central city, you're doing it for one of three reasons. 

Either one: you work there, two: you've killed your target, and therefore don't have to worry about being hunted anymore.

Or three: you have a death wish.

Rarely the most experienced may also house in central city. Those who know they're powerful, so powerful none would dare attack them, like the elite assassins. But it's still so easy to die during the night. 

If you're a heavy sleeper, you're dead. You fall asleep, you get your throat slit in the middle of the night and never wake up again.

Staying in central city for an hour without experience is suicide. That's why there's so many deaths in the city. 

The inexperienced travel to central city once their 18th birthday comes around to retrieve their target profiles. No idea how to handle a weapon, or which routes to take. 

They normally don't make it to the hub before they're killed.

That's always been my biggest fear. Dying for nothing. You live without a target or hunter until you're 18, safe until you're an adult. On your eighteenth birthday, you're assigned a target. Normally it's someone about your age, which is meant to be a 'mercy'. This world makes no sense. 

There's no corrupt society leader who determines this, they can't bring soulmates back from the dead. They can't assign soulmates or targets, it's impossible. Somehow, the world just works like this. There's no way to escape this system, or at least I don't think there is.

Maybe there is.

It's been five years for me. Five years since I became of age to have a target. Now I'm 23, having never seen my hunter until a few days ago. I still have no recollection of what they look like, having passed out barely a minute into the attack.

Maybe they're younger, only just assigned to me. But Dream said they're skilled, so they've probably been training for a few years. 

For all I know, they've been stalking me for ages, deciding that a few days ago was the perfect time to strike. I'm certain I'd be dead if Dream hadn't stepped in.

Dream, who's now laying beside me, fast asleep. He's awkwardly pressed against the rim of the alcove, one hand on his blade. A little throwing knife is strapped to his belt, blood entirely covering the tip of the blade.

It occurs to me I still know very little about him. Who his target, or who his hunter is. Apparently he's clueless about his soulmate too, and he did mention he hasn't yet retrieved his target profile. Yet he has no intention of doing so until he finds his soulmate.

For all we know, he could be my target. 

I don't understand why he's still hanging around me. We're not soulmates, so I could be dangerous to him. It's easier for me, knowing that he's safe. He can't be my hunter. I've seen my hunter before, and it's not him.

Yet I could be his. 

Dream is the only person I know is safe, the only one I can put my faith into. Suddenly it makes sense as to why he won't show me his face, or even tell me his name. 

He knows I'm colourblind, I'll have to show him my target profile so he can help me with the colours before I accidentally kill the wrong person. When he sees my profile, he'll know if I'm his hunter or not. Gives him a chance to run first. He'll act normal, then run while I'm asleep.

Even if he is my target, at least I'm still safe. There's no point in him killing me, he'll just be assigned a new hunter. Better to know who your hunter is than have them reassigned and not know. 

Plus that's pointless murder, something most can't live with. Killing your own target must be hard enough. 

He knows I'm inexperienced still, even after all this time. You'd think in five years you'd manage to get to grips with weapons, and I've done just that. 

My aim is near perfect from training, one of the reasons why I've only ever been to the city outskirts. I'm effectively self-sufficient, hunting food is a breeze.

Getting hold of medical supplies is my only issue, which is why I'm so cautious. But when I do need them, I make sure to get them from a traveller out in the woods, or the outskirts of the city if I'm desperate.

There's no way I'll risk venturing further into central city for anything other than retrieving my target profile.

My skills aren't the problem, it's my fear. I'm too scared to kill anyone, and my nerves mess me up. I fainted merely seconds into my hunter's attack, so scared I couldn't even remain conscious, let alone fight him.

So here I sit, watching Dream sleep peacefully as I remain wide awake. Too scared to fall asleep, as I always am. It's probably like having insomnia, I function on very few hours of sleep. Not healthy, but i make do. 

It takes all of my willpower to remain where I am. My head is screaming at me to leave, just because it's so used to yelling 'run' whenever I see anyone. All people are potentially dangerous, all except Dream and my soulmate. 

It'd be so easy to see his soulmate band. He's removed his gloves, I'd just have to roll up his sleeve. I'm more desperate to see his face, but his arms are wrapped so tightly over his mask I wouldn't be able to move them without waking him up.

Maybe I'd be willing to try and look at either, had he not been holding a dagger. Probably by instinct, he said he worked alone a lot too. But he's more used to people than me, I can tell simply by the way he approached me for the first time. Either that or he's stupidly reckless.

That probably means that as soon as I lay a hand on him, he'd swing that dagger in self defence. It's not worth having my stomach cut open to find out what he looks like. 

Or if he's telling the truth about his soulmate. He may have found them already but doesn't want to tell me.

Why would you lie about finding your soulmate?

Is it possible to fall in love with someone else? 

No George, that's ridiculous. Soulmates are meant for each other, true love. You can't fall in love with someone else, that's insane.

My logic would also involve Dream being in love with me. 

Pfft, ridiculous.

"George?"

There's shuffling from beside me, and I turn to see Dream is awake. But barely, by the look of it. Tired eyes, despite being asleep for most likely hours. I can't see the sun from here, but I'd guess from the lack of light coming in through the other alcoves it's probably before sunrise. 

"What are you doing awake?" he asks drowsily, readjusting his mask to make sure it properly covers his face. "I could ask you the same" I retort, biting back a yawn. 

Dream sighs, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "No, but why are you-" he pauses suddenly, examining my face. "You look awful..." he breathes, edging a little closer to better examine my face. On instinct I back up, pressing myself against the alcove wall.

"Thanks" I spit, saying it a little too harshly to convey the humour I was hoping too. His eyes are full of worry, focused on mine. "You haven't slept, have you?" I shake my head, knowing I can't lie. I'm a pretty bad liar, and my face shows I barely slept at all.

"George you need to sleep! Why haven't you?" I stare back at him, pressing my lips together tightly to indicate I won't speak. Cogs turn in his head as he thinks back to something, eyes suddenly lighting up as he remembers.

"You're too scared to sleep. Ever since I came, you've been so nervous. You don't trust not getting ambushed again." He readjusts the scabbard on his belt, placing the dagger back inside of it. "That's why you haven't slept, isn't it?"

Despite my efforts not to, I find myself nodding. Dream gives me a sorry look, then turns away after inevitably remembering how much I hate being pitied.

"I mean..." he trails off uncertainly. "I'd offer to keep watch while you sleep, but I know you won't take that offer. However you look so exhausted you may just fall asleep by accident, so I'm offering anyway."

So he took note of those details. Observant, just like me. 

"You're right, I won't take your offer. But thanks anyway."

Dream smiles sadly, watching me with wary eyes before he turns his attention to the barricade we made the night before. Carefully, he pulls away a few bags to create a gap. 

"About 5 am" he observes, checking the position of the sun before blocking back up the hole. Too early.

"We can't leave until after sunrise" I comment. "Traversing the forest in the dark is asking to be killed." 

He nods in agreement, sorting through the closest bag and pulling out something similar to a granola bar. 

"I'm not sure if I can help" he mutters, taking a bite and staring at the floor. "But is there anything that would make you feel safe enough to sleep? I'm worried your hunter will come back and you need to have slept to deal with him..."

"Why do you care?" 

The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. I just had to ask. Why does it worry him that I may die? I'm not his soulmate, he shouldn't care.

Dream looks stunned. "What do you mean? Isn't it normal to care about your friend?" 

Friend.

"Oh um..." I try to look anywhere that isn't at him. "I've not had a friend in years. I've not really had anyone to trust for a while..."

"Not even your parents?" he asks quietly. I shake my head, hating the reappearing look of pity. "Nobody. Once I finished school, I set out on my own. My parents died around that time. To their hunters, within months of each other."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Desperately I wipe them away, not wanting to look vulnerable. 

I've never told anyone this information, why am I telling him?

"It's hard to trust people when you know that any one of them could kill you. I'm not sure how you found the confidence to step in like you did. Or why you did."

There's a conflicted look in Dream's eyes. "George can I give you a hug? You look like you need one" he asks innocently. 

A part of me wants to. Really, really wants to hug him. But it's been five years since I've trusted people, and I'm desperate for company.

Silently I shake my head, causing an awkward silence between us. "I'm sorry" I mumble when I can't take the silence any longer.

I turn away from him, sitting through my supplies in preparation to leave at sunrise. It's hard, my brain unfocused from how tired I am. 

Dream is completely silent behind me. No movement at all, and he keeps his distance, which I'm thankful for. His eyes bore into me, I can tell he's staring. 

Then suddenly, there's shuffling. Something is dropped into my lap, and I ignore it while I fix my weapons in place securely. Checking over supplies and retrieving my compass, paying no attention to Dream. 

A hand reaches across my leg, pushing the item laying in my lap closer to me. I sigh, rolling my eyes as pick whatever it is up.

It's Dream's mask.

"Hi there. My name is Clay, I'm the boy who just saved you from your hunter. It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"


	7. Rivals

-George's POV-

I turn my head, wide eyes as I take in the true identity of my new friend.

Dream, or Clay, is even prettier than I imagined. At last I can fully see his apparently green eyes. I think they're a lighter green, maybe the same as the trees. Those eyes are adorned with long eyelashes which brush against his freckled cheeks as he blinks.

Full of freckles, which I barely caught a glimpse of before, now hidden by his deep blush. Nervously, he pushes his hair away from his eyes. 

As he described, there's scars and cuts littering his face. Unkept, none looking properly medicated. We definitely don't have the supplies to deal with them currently, so I make mental note to get some when I'm in central city.

There's so many. Two in a criss-cross pattern over the bridge of his nose, a smaller one on his cheek. Another under his jawline, a similar one beside it looking fresher.

The only seriously concerning injury is the barely healed cut on his forehead. I caught a glimpse of it when Clay moved his hair, and he seems to have noticed. It's bandaged badly due to lack of a mirror or someone to help.

Even with all of the scars littering his face, he's pretty. Most of them aren't that big, shallow cuts seemingly dealt in combat. But the one across his forehead is deep, like a blade was plunged into it instead of just grazing the surface.

Clay is still staring at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. I carefully tilt his chin up to match my gaze. "Hi Clay, thanks for saving me. I'm George, it's nice to meet you too."

Just to lighten the mood, I extend my hand in greeting. He takes it with a quiet laugh, shaking it overly enthusiastically. 

"So, can we begin again?" Clay asks suddenly. "I've gone a while without a friend, and I want someone to trust again."

That must've been so hard to do. Even now he's acting so self consciously, probably begging for the mask back. I return it to his hands, watching him replicate the smile of the face on it.

"Of course. It'll take me some time, but it'd be nice to have a friend around." Clay silently cheers, smiling suddenly brightly. He flattens out the petals of the peony I left in my hair, bringing our foreheads close enough together that I can see the messy wound in more detail.

"Mind if I have a look at that?" My fingers drift towards the bandages, hanging in midair as I wait for his permission. A silent nod is my answer, and I carefully start to uncover the injury.

The wound is messy, a mixture of dried and fresh blood stuck to it. Definitely a deep cut caused by a sword or dagger.

"Does this mean I can finally sort out that cut across your forehead too? You look so pale you might end up fainting." Clay's eyes flicker back to my forehead, which is mostly covered by my hair. You can probably catch a glimpse of the awfully tied bandage beneath.

"Maybe" I reply, immediately changing the conversation. "So how did you get these?" Lightly I brush my fingers over the scars on his face, examining them closely. Mostly closed up, Clay must've got them a while ago.

"My friend has a very experienced hunter. They'd attack us night after night, so I got a little injured fending them off. He hangs around in central city now with another group of people. Even his hunter isn't dumb enough to fight him now."

He flinches suddenly as I brush my fingers closer to the open wound. "Sorry. Your friend must've been lucky, don't know why he'd leave to the city without you."

Clay cuts the conversation short, changing the topic. "The cut you're looking at is from your hunter. They dug the blade into my head."

"Sorry" I cringe again, knowing I'm the reason he has this injury. It must hurt a lot. 

"How are you even alive" I breathe, pushing his hair aside to better examine the wound. "That looks fatal."

Clay shrugs, searching through his supplies for something. He sighs angrily, rifling through his medical supplies only to find he has no gauze. "There's none in my bag either" I sigh. "I'll go get some water from the river to clean it instead. It's not that far from here."

"I'm coming with you." Clay tries to stand, and I immediately help him sit back down. "You can't go outside you idiot! Your wound is open!" The blonde pouts like a child, folding his arms. "Then you better be quick" he huffs, clearing away a gap in our barricade. 

"I will, don't worry." Fastening my blades and axe to my belt, I carefully step through the hold in our barricade. The winter night is chilling, making me wish I had more layers. Another investment I should probably make in central city.

I'm barely able to see my compass, using a limited amount of light as I squint my eyes. The river isn't too far, and I quickly see it appear in the distance.

Then disappear again as I'm thrown to the floor.

"Why hello there target" a voice above me drawls. There's confidence in his tone, with a little sarcasm. 

My hunter is a boy, probably about Clay's age. It's hard to make out anything distinctive about him in the dark, but his hair is the most noticeable. Cut short, an abnormal colour. Maybe it's my protanopia, but his hair looks sort of pink.

He snorts, watching me struggle under his feet. "So they gave me this-" he jabs his black boot into my stomach. "As a target. I've hunted down the most skilled assassins and psychos, only to be dealt this as my own victim."

I squirm beneath his feet, desperately reaching for my axe. "Who the hell are you?!" I blurt, more in fear than confusion. He came out of nowhere. I've been ambushed, just like a few days ago.

"Oh, me?" He pulls out his blade, holding it close to my throat. The blade looks to be expensive, adorned with rubies and all sort of other gems. "I'm Dave, but everyone knows me as Technoblade. Leader of the elite assassins in central city."

He draws a second sword, jabbing the end of the blade lightly into my arm. "The better question is who are you? And what are you doing out alone at this hour? Are you trying to die?!" 

I grit my teeth, writhing in pain as he digs the blade ever so slightly further in. The sword at my throat thankfully remains stationary. If he wished to kill me, I'd be dead in a few seconds.

The leader of the elite assassins, of course. Now I know his hair is pink, he's known for it. Techno, I've heard his name whispered around.

The elite assassins are an assassination group based in central city. They're payed handsomely by the rich to track down and kidnap their targets. Then they can be taken back to their hunters and killed. 

It's a steep price, but Techno is rich from it. The best of the best, barely 21 and leading the most powerful group for miles around. And he's been doing these missions with the threat of his own hunter looming overhead. Of course he'd be my hunter.

Why did I get dealt an experienced hunter?!

Not only an experienced hunter, the most experienced hunter.

I wonder who was dealt him as their target. Whoever they are, they can't win. He's Techno, you can't beat him. There's no hope for his hunter.

And no hope for me.

"That was far easier than I expected it to be..." he drawls, slowly pressing both blades in. My screams fill the forest as I desperately try to reach for my own weapons. The taste of blood is thick in my mouth, rich and metallic.

I'm gonna pass out again.

If I pass out, I'm dead. His arrogance is the only reason I'm still alive. He's so cocky, not afraid of anyone or anything, which may one day be in his downfall.

Then there's another yell, and it's not my own. Techno hits the floor beside me, giving me enough time to pull out my own weapons. He's back up a few seconds later, looking from side to side. I watch his brown eyes widen, not looking around for my saviour who's out of view.

"Oh so you have one of them. This just got interesting." He spits blood at my feet, wiping his mouth and walking away. "We'll meet again soon. It'll be just you and me then."

Someone suddenly collapses at my side, pressing their sleeve to the wound at the top of my neck. My vision swims in an out of focus, barely able to make out Dream kneeling over me 

"Oh my god George! I knew this wasn't a good idea!" He looks off in the direction of Techno, who's long gone into the distance.

"Technoblade" he spits, narrowing his eyes in anger. "You know him?" I ask quietly. Clay nods, focusing his attention back on me. "He's the reason my friend left. Techno found him, and made him one of the elite assassins." 

Oh.

The blonde looks over my arm, deeming the injury no where near as bad as the one on my neck. "Mind if I carry you?" he asks quickly, already preparing to do so. "I'm not sure I have another choice."

He nods, picking me up bridal-style and running back to our temporary base. Once inside, he pushes the barricade back up with his feet.

"Thanks for saving my life again" I mumble, a little ashamed that he's had to do so twice in a matter of days. Although this is Techno we're talking about, it's a miracle I'm still alive. 

"You're welcome sunshine" he replies, creating space in the alcove for us. He props my head up with my bag, searching for some bandages. I notice there's a gauze pad across his forehead, one of us must've had some in their bag after all.

Great. So I got injured for nothing.

"What did you just call m-" My own screams cut me off, writhing in pain as Clay presses his hoodie harder against my neck to staunch the blood flow. "Try to stay still. It's a nasty wound, and you'll only make it worse if you move."

Mustering up the last of my strength, I grit my teeth and scrunch up my eyes. Clay thankfully works pretty quickly, and the wound is treated and covered in a few minutes. 

"Thanks..." I mutter shyly as Clay does the same to the injury on my forehead. He has to brush my hair aside, and I hate that I loved that touch. It's been so long, so long that even the smallest touch is comforting to me.

"Again, you're welcome. You don't need to keep thanking me, it's what friends do." 

Friends. I finally have a friend again. And this time, it's someone I can truly trust. 

Well, I don't really have a choice but to trust him.

Slowly, I sit up and wrap my arms around my new friend. It's a strange feeling after so long, but something I could get used to. Clay gasps, quickly wrapping his own arms around me. 

"Thanks George. Now will you please go to sleep?" he asks desperately. I lay back down, pulling Clay with me. My arms remain around him, unable to let go. Embarrassing, but so worth the comfort.

"Only if you stay here with me" I mumble, my eyes heavy from exhaustion and blood loss. He laughs quietly, pulling me a little closer.

"Of course, sunshine."


	8. Black And Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note: At the time I wrote this, the issue with A6d hadn't happened. He therefore is in 2 chapters, but only as a background character. This chapter is the only one he really appears in.  
> He doesn't appear at all in the later books of this series.

-George's POV-

"So you're sure you want to go?"

"Yes Clay, I'm sure" I sigh, checking my compass as we navigate the forest. Clay collects some more flowers as we walk, all sorts of shapes and sizes. "I'm sorry for asking again, but I'm just worried. Techno could attack you at any moment, and I want to be there to help."

I smile to myself, secretly enjoying that someone worries about me for once. It's been a long time since someone has cared. 

"If you're that bothered, you could just come with me" I suggest. Clay shakes his head, searching around the canopies for something. "I told you, I want to head to my old hideout. Just in case Nick is there."

From what Clay has said, Nick is the name of Clay's old friend. They used to be pretty close it seems.

"Alright. Then stop worrying."

As we edge closer to the city, Clay suddenly stops. "There." He points to one of the tallest trees in the area, a few wooden planks jutting out of the side of the trunk. I stare in horror at the unstable footholds which must be used to climb the tree. 

"That's your hideout?!" I ask in shock, suddenly making new theories as to how Clay has so many scars. A fall from even halfway up that tree could kill.

"No. It's one of the old assassin camps. I'm sure you can see why they abandoned it a while ago."

It's not a great spot for an assassin's hideout. The wooden structure barely hidden beneath the canopy does stick out. 

"Is there any chance there'd be any supplies up there?" I ask, wondering if there could be the medical supplies we so desperately need to properly treat our wounds. 

Clay nods, looking to the wooden structure near the top of the tree and quickly looking away again. "Oh for sure. There's bound to be some valuable supplies kept in there. It may not be the best disguised place, but nobody is stupid enough to venture up there."

I smirk, looking at the varying paths up to the top. "You're wrong" I smile. "There's someone crazy enough to venture up there."

Clays eyes go wide as he watches me fasten my weapons tighter into their straps. "You're not seriously-"

"Aren't you supposed to be the reckless one! C'mon, I know it looks ridiculous but we are desperately in need of those supplies."

I run off before Clay can try to convince me otherwise, leaving him to follow behind. The tree appears to have more footholds than I thought, one of the paths up not looking too hard. 

Clay catches up to me, shaking his head in disbelief. "There is no way I'm letting you go up there" he breathes, examining the tree more closely. 

"I don't care" I retort. "I'm doing it anyway, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Suddenly, the crunching of leaves echoes from somewhere nearby. Clay grabs my arm, dragging me behind some bushes. We watch as two boys approach, one roughly my height and one a bit taller.

The smaller of the two approaches the tree on our side, looking at the same path up I was barely a minute ago. 

Just a little shorter than me, tan skin and black hair. I'm not sure what colour his eyes are, but I can tell his clothes are all blue. There's an axe strapped to his back, a smaller dagger at his side.

"Skep I'm not explaining this to Darryl" the other boy huffs, folding his arms and watching the smaller boy with a death stare. There's a prominent foreign accent laced in his voice. His hair is lighter, I'd guess brown. He's also paler, wearing all black with splashes of white. Probably about six foot, his long twin blades nearing him in height.

The smaller smirks, already climbing the tree. "Relax Vinny, I'm not gonna injure myself." He climbs higher up the tree, foot slipping from one of the holds. For a few seconds I think he'll fall, but he quickly steadies himself.

"That's what you said last time!" the taller boy hollers, earning a laugh from the other.

Clay pulls me further down, whispering into my ear. "Elite assassins" he breathes, watching the two cautiously. 

"That boy" he points to the one climbing the tree. "Is Zak, but he's known as Skeppy. He's 20, especially skilled with his axe. He has his soulmate, and hasn't killed his target. I've never seen his soulmate before, but I've heard around they work in the market square."

I watch the smiling boy, Zak, climb the tree effortlessly. He slips a few times, laughing it off without worry. "Isn't it weird to have an assassin with someone that isn't one? Especially one of the elites..."

Clay nods, eyes not wavering from the two boys. "Frowned upon, yep. It's a wonder his soulmate isn't also an assassin, much less someone working in the markets. I know people laugh at him for it."

Zak slips again, causing his friend to rush below him incase he falls the entire way down. But he doesn't, laughing ridiculously at the terrified look on the boy below's face. 

"Even more reckless than me" Clay laughs. "Zak doesn't care what anyone thinks of him. I believe he's also bi, and I think his soulmate is a boy? I'm not sure though, never seen him."

The boy in black yells angrily up to Skeppy. "Darryl is going to kill me if you get hurt you fucking idiot!" 

"I'm guessing his soulmate's name is Darryl" I observe with a smile. Zak hangs to the tree by one hand, using the other to wave childishly at his friend. His hoodie falls down his arm as he waves, revealing a soulmate band beneath. 

"Purple" Clay comments. "Zak's favourite colour is obviously blue, so this 'Darryl' person's must be red."

I nod, watching in amazement as Zak reaches the wooden platform at the top of the tree. "Who's the other boy?" I ask, signalling to the boy still stood on the ground.

"A6d, his name's actually Vincent. Another elite assassin, the youngest of them. Only eighteen, assigned to them pretty recently. Very skilled with those swords."

The two blades strapped to Vincent's back are terrifying. They look freshly sharpened, glinting in the early morning sun.

"Zak I swear to fucking god-" Vincent seethes. 

"Relax Frenchie, I've got this." That'd explain the accent. He's from quite a few cities over, the journey must've been ridiculous. I wonder why he came here of all places.

Vincent sighs deeply, tapping his foot against the ground so the leaves beneath crunch loudly. Stood out in the open, yelling and making loud noises. Definitely elite assassins, they know nobody is dumb enough to attack them. 

"Should've got your boyfriend to come watch you instead" Vincent huffs, earning a strong of insults to be yelled at him from above. "Pity he's too much of a coward to be an assassin" he adds with a smirk.

"You dare insult Darryl again-" Zak yells, voice becoming muffled as he enters the derelict treehouse. He reappears a few minutes later, a pile of supplies at his feet. 

"As I was saying" he smirks. "You dare insult Darryl again, and I'll personally decapitate you."

Vincent snorts. "That's if you can reach my head to do so, shortass-"

"Hey!"

The two argue jokingly like kids as Zak fixes a rope around on of the tree branches, using it as a pulley. He attaches the supplies to the rope, lowering them down to Vincent. 

"Also" Zak retorts. "Darryl saves your life you ungrateful ass. If he hadn't bandaged you up when you came to the market, you'd have bled out across the floor."

The taller rolls his eyes. "True. So did you get anything for him?"

"Plenty. Gauzes and bandages and all sorts of fancy coloured liquids."

"Know what any of them do?"

Zak smiles brightly. "Not a clue!"

"Perfect" Vin snorts. "At least your boyfriend will. Dare you to drink one."

"Sure. Then I'll die and Darryl will suddenly see his soulmate band turn black. Fantastic idea Vin." Zak claps sarcastically, dragging them out to add insult.

"He can save you-"

"We've literally just discussed this. Darryl helps people, he doesn't kill them. I offered one time to capture his target and bring them to him so he could kill them, and he wouldn't let me."

Vincent scoffs. "Told you he's a coward. The medic of central city's soulmate is an elite assassin, how ridiculous. He saves people, and you kill them.

"Hilarious. Make fun of him all you want, but he's saved your life and mine." Zak blushes as he loads down the last of the supplies. "Plus he's gorgeous. I don't care that people make fun of me for being his soulmate, he's mine and I love him regardless."

Vincent points a finger towards his throat, imitating gagging. "Sappy. Speaking of, we should get these to Darryl. He was looking for that orange stuff to help with Sapnap's arm."

The two boys head of, laughing and punching each other jokingly. Clay drags me to my feet, waiting for them to walk ahead a little before following. "Sapnap has got to be my friend. I'd call him Snapmap as a joke, he must've changed the name to use as his assassin's identity."

I nod, watching Clay follow the two boys to the North-west side of the outskirts. 

"Meet you at the market afterwards?" I ask, knowing he'll want to see his friend, especially now that he knows he's injured. "Yep. Oh, and George-"

Clay grabs my arm, taking off his mask and shoving it into my hands. "Wear this. Techno will have a harder job spotting you. It's not much, but it'll help at least a little."

"Thanks Dre-" He pulls me into a hug before we part ways. "Call me Clay idiot. You were so desperate to know my name, so use it."

I hug him back lightly, checking my compass and heading north as he follows Zak and Vincent. "And be careful, or I'll come looking for you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Clay" I scoff, turning away.

"You're welcome Georgie. See you at midday."


	9. Truth Or Lies

-George's POV-

Central city is terrifying with company, let alone by yourself. 

I remember one time when I came to the outskirts to pick up some supplies from someone. We had to venture a little further in to the city to retrieve something they forgot to bring, and that was terrifying despite having someone experienced with me.

Now I'm all alone, and have to venture into the main city itself. Not just a little into the city, to the hub. Which happens to be perfectly in the centre of central city.

Fantastic.

The buildings are a little studier the further in I venture. Better kept too, some clearly housing the assassins. There's a ton of assassin groups or solo assassins, just none as prestigious as the elite assassins. Their referred to as they elite' for a reason.

Oh to be Technoblade, able to walk freely about these streets and live in luxury. Maybe he's got the right idea, become so powerful you're safe. 

I've heard there's attempts to overthrow him, both by other groups and even some of his own members. There's no mercy in the assassin profession.

My mind wanders back to the two boys Clay and I saw, how innocent the smaller one was. Zak doesn't look dangerous, that's what's most terrifying. 

Techno only assigns the best, he's apparently very picky when it comes to new recruits. There's never advertisements to join them around, it's more of a test of skills. You could be noticed and assigned to them at any time. 

I've heard instances where Techno has hunted people down for sport whenever he's looking for new recruits. No better time to be tested than when you're forced into action I suppose. 

He's said to have captured people, going a little easy on them of course. If they manage to escape him, he'll offer them a place in his guild. 

If not, well...

He's nicknamed 'the blood god' for a reason.

I try to walk as confidently as I can. Not so much that I look arrogant, as then people would think I'm asking for a fight. Tempting fate isn't worth it. 

Just enough so that I won't be attacked because I look like easy prey. Keep the amateur assassins at bay. Offence is the best defence sometimes.

At last the glowing white walls of the hub appear down the next street. I'm so happy I could cheer, but that'd be ridiculous. Instead quickly breathe a sigh of relief, quiet enough that no unwanted attention is drawn to me. It's hard to breathe in this mask, I'm gasping for air to often.

How the hell does Dream wear this thing all the time?!

Carefully I approach the hub, opening the shining double doors to the main room. Thankfully there's not a large wait, and it's buzzing with people. Quiet chatting, not the place an assassin would strike. I'm probably safe in here. 

I walk towards the desk, greeted by a girl. Unnervingly, she's taller than me. Maybe she wears high heels, but that'd be impractical, especially considering her job.

Most would think it's safe to be the hub assistant. But no, it's like working in a bank. Managing the vault. 

That's how precious target profiles can be. People would literally kill to know who Techno's target is, so they can kill them and impress him enough to join his guild. Bad metaphor, people kill for anything in this world. 

They'd kill more for knowledge of his target. Sadly, that person happens to be me. I'm his target.

Of course I am...

Not only am I being hunted by Technoblade himself, I'm potentially being hunted by his admirers. 

Great.

"Hello sweetheart, how can I help you?" The girl asks kindly. It's then that I realise how masculine her voice sounds. 

Her outfit is so unmatched. A black, long-sleeved top, paired with a chequered skirt. I'd guess it was red and black, with black chords at the front. Her long hair is particularly covered by a black beanie, a lot of makeup covering her face and ridiculously long eyelashes. My eyes drift to her name tag, reading 'Finn'.

[psst, I'm attempting to describe the outfit from stream highlights six]

Oh.

That explains it.

"Hi. I'm here to retrieve my target profile."

The girl smiles at me, pushing a sheet of paper towards me. "Just fill in your details and I'll retrieve that for you."

The form you have to fill in is so complex, due to many people trying to forge other's. It takes so long to fill out.

Another person comes in behind me, and I move to the side while I fill in the form. Loud yelling suddenly erupts near the entrance of the grand room, and I watch from afar.

"I told you! If you can't pay the price, get the hell out!" 

The boy yelling looks a little younger than me, but is barely taller. His hair is black, skin darkened slightly in the sun. His eyes almost match Clay's, so I'm assuming they're also green.

His clothes are black and white, a bandana tied tightly around his head most likely as a fashion statement. He's either crazy or stupid for wearing something so loose, especially on his head. One tug of it from behind and he'd be suffocated as it'd fall around his throat.

The other man he's talking to is larger, looking a little older. I can't make out anything he's saying, as he talks very quietly. 

"Not my price to negotiate" the black-haired boy spits. "Of course you can always take that up with Techno if you have a death wish..." 

My eyes drift to his sword as he pulls it out to threaten the man with. There's a distinctive marking on it, an elite assassin's mark. So that's why he's so confident.

The man holds his hands up, muttering something and walking off. I return my form to the desk, and Finn leaves to retrieve my profile. 

Luckily she's not wearing high heels. Grey trainers, with long socks. Even colourblind I can tell they don't match her outfit. 

The boy in the corner looks my way, smiling at someone else in passing. I try to ignore him, but I feel pinned by his cold glare.

"So it says here that your profile was collected a while ago..." Finn flips through some papers while she talks, smudging her cheap lipstick all over her teeth as she bites her lip. "But I can print you a new one if you'd like?"

Someone has taken my target's profile. It wasn't me, I never came to collect it before. So someone pretended to be me and succeeded.

Who would anyone want my target profile? Why mine?

"Yeah thanks" I mutter, not really paying attention. There's nobody I can think of that'd want to know my target. 

Maybe because I'm Techno's, they want mine too? Just to prevent me from killing them while they try to kill me.

At last Finn returns, with something in her hand. I notice that her soulmate band is exposed, a blueish-purple colour I think. 

She hands me a brown envelope with a smile, noticing my eyes lingering over her wrist. The cover I've the paper is made of some sort of waterproof material, keeping the profile enclosed inside safe from rain.

And probably blood too.

"Thanks" I try to smile, tucking the profile into the inside pocket of my jacket. "You're welcome hun, have a nice day!"

Glad someone can be cheerful. 

I decide to open my target profile down an alleyway out of view, especially cautious now that I know someone else has it. People must want to know.

Undoubtedly I'll have to show it to Clay, but I'm happy to do so now. He's safe. Nobody else is, but I can trust him. It's weird how I wanted to even before I knew I could, like I was drawn to him. The same way soulmates must be, although I wouldn't know.

Or maybe I would. I've not looked at my wrist in ages out of fear. It'd pressure me to come here too inexperienced if I saw it one day and it was black.

Maybe I should look...

I make my way into an alleyway, checking the streets behind to make sure I'm not being followed. Every time I turn a corner, I check. No more often than that, or I'd look paranoid. Which I am, but I'm more likely to be attacked if I look weak.

Slowly I pull the envelope out of my pocket, running my fingers over the seal. Carefully, I undo the waterproof wrapping to make sure I don't damage it. I need to preserve it, I don't want to make another trip back here.

My fingers tremble as I hold the envelope in my hands, gripping it so tightly my knuckles turn white. With shaking hands I open the envelope, seeing the folded white piece of paper.

Please don't be Clay

Please don't be Clay

Please don't be Clay...

And that's when my head hits the wall.

It hits the concrete behind me, blurring my vision for a second. The wound on my forehead open from the impact, bleeding through my bandages. Dream's mask is pulled from my face as I'm turned around, held by the force of someone's body weight.

I'm met with the face of the black-haired boy from the hub, who's watching me with a loathing snarl. That stare alone could pin me to the wall. 

"Where did you find this?" he snarls, holding the mask in front of me. His sleeves fall down his arms, revealing his soulmate band beneath.

The band is pure black.

"I uh-" I'm not sure whether to lie or not. It's doesn't seem like a good idea to lie to an elite. It'll probably end in me dying, if that wasn't about to happen anyway.

"He gave it to me" I choke, breathing ragged from the force he's applying against my chest. The boy laughs ridiculously. "Damned liar" he spits. 

The sword I saw earlier is unsheathed, the tip of the blade barely touching my chin. "I'll ask you again: where did you find the mask?"

Trying to talk would dig the blade in further. He seems to notice this, and moves it away a little. "Simple question. Just answer it, and I'll let you go. You can even keep the mask if you want."

"I told you, he gave it to me!" 

"You're a liar!" he yells, adjusting the blade and pushing it into my cheek. I scream, writhing against him uselessly. There's no way I can escape him. 

"I'm not! I swear I'm not!" I yell back pitifully. 

"You are!"

"How do you know?"

"Because Dream has been fucking DEAD for a week!" he screams. My eyes go wide, watching the boy before me. He sighs, holding me against the wall tightly but putting the blade away. 

"As you clearly don't recognise me, I'm Nick, but everyone calls me Sapnap. Dream was my best friend, we were really close. I was offered a place on the elite assassins team months back, but declined it."

He declined an offer to the elite assassins?!

Somehow, he's smiling. "I know right, crazy. But I was loyal to Dream, we didn't care. We were self sufficient and led our own little lives."

So this is Nick, the same Nick who's supposed to be with Darryl in the marketplace. His arm is definitely injured though, it's wrapped neatly but with a nasty amount of blood seeping through. 

"I never met my soulmate. One day, I just saw my soulmate band was black. So I went to the hub to retrieve my target profile for the first time."

The look on his eyes is sorrowful, probably from remembering his dead soulmate. That'd explain the black band. 

"And guess what. Of all the people it could've been, it was Dream. My target was my best friend, my only friend."

He sighs, looking from the mask to me. "So I ran away. Accepted the offer to the elite assassins, and put as much distance between us as possible. No matter how desperately I want my girlfriend, I can't kill him for her. But I was scared I'd cave suddenly over a petty argument, so I left."

He looks me in the eyes, a flame matching that on his shirt burning in each pupil. "That's why I know he's dead. Because my target profile has changed. Either that or he's killed his assassin, but I know what Dream is like. He swore he'd never retrieve that thing until he met his soulmate." 

My face is pale, and not just from blood loss. The new information runs through my head, my brain desperately trying to process it. There's three answers here:

Either, one: Sapnap is lying. Two: Dream is lying. Or three: they're both lying.

I'd like to say I'm confident it's option one, but I'm really not sure. 

Can I actually trust Dream?

Or is he lying to me? 

The boy's eyes suddenly go wide, releasing his hold on my shirt collar. I drop the floor, and he hands me back the mask, narrowing his eyes. "I can infer enough" he mumbles, eyeing my covered wrist. "Take this, you should have it."

Sapnap turns to leave, readjusting his sword in its' scabbard. "Tell him I'm sorry. And take care of him, he needs you." As I regain my breath, he jabs a dagger towards me in accusation. "And don't you dare tell anyone I let you go. I know who you are, and I know who your hunter is George."

He signs, leaving the alleyway. I go to say a thank you for sparing me, but he cuts me off. "And don't thank me. I didn't spare your life for your benefit, I spared it for his."

And with that, he walks off.

My head is aching, and I carefully retrieve my target profile which fell to the floor during our encounter. It's hard enough to make out the picture with my colourblindness, let alone my blurry vision.

From what I can tell, they look creepily similar to Dream. If I didn't know different, I'd say it was him. But the name isn't Clay. 

I don't even take in what name it is, it doesn't matter. I'm too relieved. I lean against the wall, sighing in relief. 

It's not Dream.

I'm safe, it's not Dream.

I breathe a sigh of relief, returning the profile to it's protective covers and pocketing it. Sapnap is wrong, Dream is alive. He's got to be lying to me, but his story makes so much sense. It fits with what Clay told me strangely well. All except the last bit.

What the hell was he talking about?

Wiping the blood out of my eyes, I press my hand to the wound to staunch the bleeding. It's even nastier now, and definitely needs proper medical attention before it's infected. Maybe I should pay a visit to the medic Vincent mentioned.

As I head for the square, Nick's words echo around my mind. He's lying, he's got to be. Maybe it's half the truth, and half a lie.

He saw me wearing Dream's mask, so he must've attacked me to ask where I got it from, and probably why I have it. Nick was Clay's best friend, and he left him only a week or so ago. That much is all true. 

So maybe Nick didn't abandon Clay for no reason after all. I may have just found out who Clay's hunter was. Which is no use now, but it's a start. 

Unless Nick is lying, and his target is still Clay. Or he's trying to find Clay because one of his clients has him as their target. That sort of makes sense.

It's the rest I really can't figure out. Deciphering the truth from lies. There could be missing information, making people's perceptions vary a lot. Maybe Nick thinks he's right, but he isn't.

There was always a fourth option: Dream killed his target. Which would be best case scenario of the four, but that still means Dream has lied to me.

Who do I trust anymore...


	10. The Market Medic

-George's POV-

The market thankfully isn't too far of a walk. Nick disappeared completely, so I couldn't follow him if I tried. Part of me wonders if he'll try finding Clay, but he seems convinced he's dead. 

But he's not, something just doesn't add up. Nick could be telling the truth, and that worries me. The thought of Clay lying to me hurts so badly, and I'm not even sure why. It must be since I'm putting my trust in someone after so long, scared it'll be shattered.

That's all it is. Nothing more.

As I reach the market, I notice it's busy. There's a lot of people, crowding around the far side where the steps are. Probably waiting for someone to announce something, yet the stages remains empty currently.

The market is underground, on the north-west side. It's under a large park, one of the few green spaces in the destroyed city. I've heard is generally busy anyway, but whatever is happening today means it's packed to the brim.

I cautiously enter the market, scanning it for Clay. He's nowhere in sight, so I cautiously make my way deeper into the underground. 

It's pretty dark, the few lanterns handing around not doing much to illuminate the area. It's almost a square. Big enough that it'd be considered spacious if not for the stalls clogging it. Although it's so dangerous, it's actually quite pretty.

As I reach the far end of the stage, I spot Nick leaning against a wall. He's holding his sword, casually sharpening it and watching the steps. 

In a slightly hidden part of the wall, I notice a little shop dug into the wall. There's a glowing light outside, flickering softly. Yellow for me, presumably green or red for anyone else. 

Cautiously, I enter the shop, wanting to stay out of the main centre where the crowd is gathered. Inside the shop is Zak, sat on the store's front desk and smiling fondly at another boy. 

The boy sat in a chair beside the desk is dressed in black, clothes rimmed with what I think is red. He wears grey gloves and boots, eyes a similar colour to Clay's. 

Wait...

My thoughts are interrupted when the boy notices me. "Oh my goodness! Sorry I didn't see you there, come in!" 

Nervously I walk over to him, smiling awkwardly in greeting. Remembering I'm still wearing the mask, I quickly remove it. "You know Dream?" Zak asks, turning to face me. 

"Yes- I mean... how?" 

"Have you seen him recently? What's he been up to?" Skeppy asks question after question about Dream, and I just watch him in silence.

"Geppy stop overwhelming him!" the other boy whines, giving Zak a glare. He removes his gloves, revealing the band underneath as he switches them to a white pair. A soulmate band, matching Zak's in colour around his left wrist.

Oh my god...

"I Uh- I need to leave..." I mutter, turning away to try hiding the shock in my eyes. 

Now. I need to leave now.

Darryl turns to me, eyes widening as he takes in the blood running down my face from my forehead. "You can't leave! That wound needs attention!" 

The market fills with sudden cheering, people flooding to the steps up to the stage. Zak suddenly bolts out of the door in that direction, leaving me here with the medic.

"Oh I forgot he needs to be there!" Darryl sighs.

I laugh awkwardly, realising I can't get through the thickening crowd. Looks like I'm stuck here. "Guess he forgot too."

Darryl laughs, pulling up a chair beside the window. "Were you worried you'd miss Techno's announcement? You can sit by the window if you'd like to see it."

Techno.

He can't see me.

"No that's okay, I just wanted to know what it was about." Darryl smiles sweetly at me, grabbing out some gauzes and bandages. 

"Oh that? Just an elite assassins announcement. They've updated their wanted list, and want information on some people."

The brown-haired boy couldn't look less interested if he tried. "You not like the assassins? Isn't your soulmate that boy?"

Darryl blushes, realising I must've seen their matching bands when he changed gloves. "Oh Zak? Yes, he's my soulmate. Strange, I know." He sighs, as if worried I'll make fun of him.

"Well, not really" I respond quietly. "Soulmates are determined when we're born. Whatever force determines them can't have possibly know what your future occupations would be. It's picked by personality right? Not profession."

I offer the medic a small smile. "I'm not judging." 

Surprisingly, he smiles back. "Thanks... what's your name?" 

"George."

As soon as realisation hits him, I wish I could take back my words. "You're Techno's-"

"Shh!" I yell, putting a finger to my lips. "I'm dead if he hears I'm in here!" Darryl nods, looking back to the mask still on my head. I've twisted it around so my face is visible, it now covers the left side of my head.

"And you know Dream..." he mumbles, sorting through a first aid kit. 

"Why is everyone so obsessed with Dream?!" I yell quietly, partially listening in to the announcement outside. "Don't some people think he's dead?"

Darryl nods, pressing a gauze to my forehead after finishing cleaning the dirt and dried blood away. "Some do, and some don't. That's why Techno is making an announcement, it's mainly about Dream."

"What about him?"

"He disappeared off the radar about a week ago. Nobody has seen him since, and his hunter reports his target changing from him. Some think he's killed his target, some think him dead."

I nod, noticing the information matches Sapnap's. He's got to have been his hunter. "Why is Dream so important?" I ask. "It's not uncommon for people to just disappear."

Darryl sighs, clearly debating how much he should tell me. "The elite assassins like to keep tabs on everyone anyway. Just so they know exact where to find their client's targets. There's a reason they're the most respected and powerful group around."

I press for information. "But that doesn't explain why Dream specifically is so sought after."

Another sigh from the medic. "Honestly, nobody knows why they're after Dream. Some say it's because they want to recruit him, he does have a reputation for being quite the fighter."

So nobody knows why exactly. Either that or Darryl isn't telling me.

"There's multiple theories. That Dream has Techno as his target, that an elite assassin has Dream as theirs. Normally the elite don't ask for help killing their own target, but they make exceptions when their soulmates die."

He looks sadly out of the window, eyes resting on the person stood beside Techno on stage. Sapnap, a haunting look in his eyes. 

"I know Sapnap lost his soulmate barely a week ago, around the same time Dream disappeared. People think that's linked together." 

"He's at the centre of Dream's investigation. Either for better, or for worse. There's rumours Sapnap and Dream were friends, but there's also worse rumours. Most believe Dream killed Sapnap's soulmate. Reason unknown, but that seems to be a common theory."

Darryl pitifully watches Sapnap, who's trying his best to act calmly. No matter how hard he tries, he can't stop himself from nervously shifting and fiddling with his sword.

"I never knew Dream, but I know Sapnap definitely did at some point. My theory is that Sapnap was Dream's hunter, and now wants to find his friend after his hunter has changed. I'm convinced he's the hunter who had Dream as his target."

I nod slowly, making sure I look uninterested so Darryl will spill more information. He seems a little too careless spilling it, especially when his soulmate must be giving him insight. This could be helpful information on Dream.

"Although I don't think Sap is after Dream, it's another common theory. He wouldn't do that to his friend. Sapnap may act tough, but he's got a kind heart."

The medic's gaze turns unfocused as his eyes drift to the opposite end of the stage. "Just like Zak. He acts tough, but he's soft underneath. Despite how mean he may act when doing his job, he's actually one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet..."

He suddenly snaps out of his daydream, returning his attention to me. "Sorry. Have you found your soulmate yet?"

Slowly I shake my head, certain I haven't. My soulmate band may be black, but that still means I never actually met them in person. For all I know, my soulmate is dead. They could've been dead for weeks.

"Oh I'm sorry, you'll find them soon I'm sure. I bet they're going to be the most amazing person."

My stomach turns over at the thoughts in my head. For some reason, as soon as Darryl said 'the most amazing person', my mind went straight to Clay.

Which does seem reasonable. Who else would save someone over and over that isn't their soulmate? Friends, but we've known each other a matter of days. We weren't friends, and he still saved me.

He is pretty perfect.

I don't know why, but Clay seems so perfect to me. When he smiles, it lights up the room. He's pretty yet sweet, adorable when he's flustered. It's cute when he's shy over his scars an imperfections, not realising how perfect he really is. It sounds like I'm crushing on him.

Maybe I am.

But that's not right. Dream has a soulmate, and it's not me. He's been so desperate to meet them his entire life, and has dedicated his time to doing so. It's so wrong of me to think this way.

People love their soulmates, and only their soulmates. You can't fall in love with someone that isn't your soulmate, it isn't right. 

Impossible. It's not meant to be.

"George are you okay? You're zoning out..." I smile nervously, failing to make it look convincing.

"You... you know where Dream is... don't you?" 

I shake my head, desperate not to give anything away to the soulmate of an elite assassin. "No, I don't. I have no idea where he's gone."

Darryl watches me, eyes focused on my forehead. "You're lying, and I can sense it. That's Dream's mask, it's iconic. You know, or knew, where he was."

He removes the gauze from my head, replacing it with a fresh one and wrapping a clean bandage around it. 

"There's two options here George: either he's your soulmate, or your target. I'm presuming from the way you zone out every time I mention his name he's your soulmate."

I zone out whenever he's mentioned?!

Crowds begin to move, clearing an open space in front of the stage. Techno stands chatting to Vincent, Zak heading this was with Sapnap.

Oh no.

"I need to leave. Now" I mutter to Darryl, who gives me a small nod in response. "Good luck" he smiles. "Dream's soulmate, and Techno's target. You live a dangerous life."

He's right, I do.

But as I leave the shop, I know who else does. That medic boy, Darryl, leads a dangerous life too. Boyfriend of an elite assassin, as a feeble market medic. But he's also still being hunted, and I know who by.

The name across my target profile read his name, and he matches the picture perfectly.

I've found my target.


	11. You Don't Know What It's Like

-George's POV-

I spot Clay in one of the shops, looking through the various supplies. Rope and matches and all sorts of survival items that weren't easy to come across. They must be sold at a high price, or payed for in blood by the assassins.

Clay turns to me with a smile, quietly waving but not saying a word. I wonder if he's looking at something, so I edge a little closer. Our hands brush briefly, and I hate the warm sensation it sends through me. Comfort, I'm safer with him.

"What you looking at?" I ask, trying to peer over his shoulder. He's too tall, and I barely catch a glimpse of the shelf even on my tip toes. 

"Stop making yourself look stupid" Clay laughs, taking my hand and leading me back towards the entrance of the shop. The woman behind the counter is watching me strangely, squinting in what looks like confusion. I offer her a smile as we leave.

Clay guides me over to one of the alcoves just out of view from the main stage. We quietly watch the remaining elite assassins still chatting on stage, Techno talking to a boy I don't recognise.

"Who's your target then?" he asks. "Nobody had taken it, had they?"

Strange question to ask...

"Actually they had. Why'd you ask that?" He looks away from me, taking off his bag and rummaging around in it for something. "Just figured people may want to stop you, seeing as you're Techno's target."

"True. Yes I got my target, and I think I know who it is already." I pull the envelope out of my jacket, Clay's eyes lighting up at my words. "Really?"A smile creeps across his face. "Does that mean you figured out the colours by yourself?" 

I blush shyly, looking away as I pull out my target profile. "Maybe. He looks like you. If his name wasn't printed on it, I'd have thought it was" I laugh.

Suddenly I'm wrapped in a hug. "Oh Georgie I'm so proud of you! Green is one of the harder colours for you too." 

"Never call me that ever again" I scoff, trying desperately to hide the deepening blush flooding my cheeks. "But thanks. It's only because of you helping with the flowers that I recognised it."

He smiles, wide enough to show his teeth. Little dimples form at the edges of his cheeks, merging the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks. His smile is pretty.

He's not your soulmate George...

"Perfect!" he beams. "I'll make sure to collect more things for you. Telling apart the basic colours first, then I'll get into different shades." 

I sigh, looking at the target profile and realising I still can't tell the difference between the colour of the stripes on their clothes and their hair colour. "I'm never going to manage that."

"You will, have faith." He grabs the profile out of my hands, smiling eagerly at it. "Now let me see..." 

All it takes is for him to see the name printed across the top. "Oh my god you've got to be kidding" he gasps, mouth hanging open. "They dealt you Zak's soulmate?! Another elite assassin?!"

"Yep" I sigh, wondering what I ever did wrong to deserve this. My hunter is the leader of the elite assassins, my target is the soulmate of an elite assassin. Who also happens to be a medic, a good person so pure they helped me without a second thought. 

"You really got dealt a nasty hand, didn't you? You're colourblind, your hunter is-"

"Yeah, thanks I got that. My soulmate is probably dead, just to add to everything else." Sadness turns to anger, boiling my blood as I realise how unfair this is. "Not only that, but my target just helped me willingly!" 

As anger turns back to sadness, I somehow find myself yelling. "Clay I can't kill people! I can't do this, it isn't right! Now I have to kill a good person, with a soulmate!"

Clay pulls me further away from the stage, so that nobody can eavesdrop. Careless of me to spill such precious information near so many threats.

"I'm screwed! I'll die to my hunter, I barely lived before! If you weren't there, I'd be dead right now. Maybe that's the better option..."

The blonde puts a finger to my lips, shaking his head. He wraps me into a tight hug, caressing my back gently. "Calm down, it's going to be ok" he soothes. "I'm sorry for the hand you've been dealt. It's nasty and unfair, but we can't really that."

He pulls away to look me in the eyes. "Remember, you don't have to kill your target. It's not a requirement, you can live your life without it. Plus you're yet to meet your soulmate."

I force myself to stop crying like a child, taking slow and ragged breaths. "You're right. I just... I don't want to be on the run forever. It's not fair. Techno is too strong, he'll kill me-"

"Would you feel safer if you had a different hunter?" The question catches me off-guard. "Well of course I would, but-"

"If you want, I'll happily kill him for you."

"What?" I pull away from his arms and stare at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious right? First off, he's Technoblade. There's no way you could-"

"Yes, I could-"

"No, Clay, you couldn't."

"Yes I-"

"NO!"

We both go silent, Clay flinching. "No, you couldn't" I mutter. "And why would you anyway? I'm not your soulmate, I'm not worth it."

"Just because you aren't my soulmate doesn't mean you aren't worth it" he retorts. "You're my friend. I'm allowed to care about people other than my soulmate-"

"But that isn't right" I cut in. "People don't have friends until they're safe, it's too dangerous. You trust your soulmate, and nobody else."

"Bu you trust me, don't you?"

I frown bitterly. My mind floods with Nick's words, Clay's uncertainty to tell me things. The words I spit have so much venom behind them I surprise even myself.

"No, not really. Your little friend attacked me in an alleyway because I was wearing your mask. He told me some things, and claimed you were dead."

Clays mouth drops open again. "You saw Nick?! And what do you mean he said I'm dead? How would he know if I am?"

"He's your hunter" I blurt, correcting myself immediately after. "Was, your hunter. It changed about a week ago, when you 'disappeared'." I put air quotes around 'disappeared', sounding so spiteful I must come off as sarcastic.

"That's why he left you. His soulmate is dead, and he couldn't bring himself to kill you" I throw another glare at Clay. "Pathetic, if you ask me. He's an assassin, that's their job."

Clay's mouth twists into a snarl. "You don't dare insult Sapnap-"

"I just did. He's probably not telling the truth anyway, everyone here is a bunch of liars." I jab a finger in his direction. 

"Including you, Dream. There's something you aren't telling me. Probably multiple things. You're probably working with the assassins, maybe you are one and this is just another ploy to get me killed."

"That's ridiculous!"

I sigh, turning away from him. "I shouldn't have ever trusted people. I've been screwed over by so many people. Had my trust broken again and again-"

"You're being dramatic" he blurts. "Your life isn't as hard as you think it is. Suck it up, life's unfair. Trust me I know what that's like-"

I turn back to him, screaming like nobody's listening. "No! No Dream, I can't trust you! And you don't know what it's like! You don't know what it's like to live the way I do."

"To be the kid that gets asked to draw a rainbow and gets it all wrong! To be laughed at and made fun of, having your red water bottle switched with one of green chemical bottles because you can't fucking tell the difference!"

Clay starts backing up, and I lash my anger out on him. "Hilarious! Let's make fun of the colourblind kid and almost fucking POISON him!"

"Constantly talk about how pretty the world is whenever he's around because he lives his life in two colours! Can't match his clothes by himself, can't even sort things in colour order!

"Mess up who's soulmates with who and laugh at him when he falls for it because he can't tell the difference between the coloured bands! "

"Now I can't even tell apart my target, can't pick them out in a crowd. I can't do anything. Never could, never will."

I sigh, forcing myself to look away and lower my voice at the terrified look in his eyes. Those stupid green eyes, maybe they're not even green. Maybe he's lying again.

I manage to keep my voice to a mutter. "Sorry for having trust issues when people have been using my disability against me my whole life."

"Sorry for getting emotional and crying like a child because the world is so fucking unfair to me. Sorry that all I've ever wanted was someone to be different, to treat me like I'm normal and be my friend."

I sigh, picking up my target profile which Dream dropped in fear. Tucking it back into my pocket, and throwing my bag over my shoulder. 

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I pull his mask from my head and throw it at his feet. Turning to leave, I bitterly mutter my goodbye. 

"Sorry Dream, but you don't know what it's like."

And as I leave him standing in that alleyway, I take in the market square around me. People are staring at me, and I couldn't care. My face is visible to all, my own hunter's eyes on me as I leave.

I'm back to being alone.


	12. Primary Colours

-George's POV-

As soon as I'm out of the market I run, as far away and as fast as I can. No idea where I'm going, I'll make that up as I go along. Like I always do. 

Cause a scene, fuck things up, put trust in people and get fucked over again. 

Story of my life.

When my lungs are burning I stop, leaning against a tree in the park on the outskirts of the city. Considering the amount of green space still without entering the forest, I'd guess this is the north end of town. 

Not too far from the market, the city streets are unfamiliar and seem to have led me in circles. I was sure I'd covered more ground, turns out I haven't. So anyone could have easily followed me out here.

Fantastic.

Water supply running thin, medical supplies thin as I forgot to get any at the market. Injuries making me feel faint, I could collapse any second. 

What I really need is someone to care. It's all I've ever needed, after I accepted finding my soulmate was inevitably just another way for this cruel world to kill me.

~Flashback~

"Hey George! Look at this!"

Elena grabs my hand, tugging me across the playground. Her eyes are wide with amazement, pointing ahead at two kids stood before us. 

Daniel and Amy stand hand-in-hand smiling at each other with a look for adoration. "It happened!" Elena squeals, pointing towards the bands on their wrists. 

Both kids push up their shirt sleeves, revealing a band around their left wrists. Yellow to me. I'm not sure what colour it's meant to be, but I'm guessing orange. Daniel likes red, and Amy likes yellow.

Wait.

Amy, Charlie's soulmate. Stood with Daniel, matching bands around their wrists.

My mouth hands open, staring between the two bands. Amy smiles at me, shooting a look over in Charlie's direction. "George! I found my soulmate!" Daniel announces proudly, in yer locking his fingers with Amy's and holding their hands in the air for all too see. 

"But-" I splutter. "Amy is Charlie's soulmate! You can't-"

Daniel shrugs. "Amy knew Charlie liked her, so she pretended they were soulmates. As soon as they touched, she ran away and drew a bracelet around her wrist."

Charlie, who's admired Amy for so long. Only for Amy to do that to him. How could she!

"I'm- I'm telling Charlie!" I yell, balling my hands into fists. Charlie is one of the few people who was actually nice to me. Most people made fun of me, including Daniel. 

But soulmates are special, people put their differences aside to appreciate them. Of course I'm happy for Daniel and Amy, but I'm disgusted Amy would so insensitivity break Charlie's head.

"No!" Daniel yells in shock. "You can't tell him! It'll hurt him so bad!" 

Why does Daniel care?

Daniel, the new student. He recently moved to the area, started at our school barely a month ago. Maybe it was fate, if he's found his soulmate that quickly. Start of the sixth year, not even teenagers yet.

Wish I was that lucky...

"I don't care! He needs to know!" Elena tries to hold me back, securing her grip on my wrist. Somehow I manage to struggle out of her grasp, running as fast as I can towards Charlie.

"Charlie!" I yell, catching his attention almost immediately. He turns, smiling at me brightly. "Hey George! What's up-"

"Amy isn't your soulmate-" I blurt, cutting him off entirely. His eyes go wide with horror. "Wh-what? How do you know? What do you-"

"She tricked you. Her soulmate is Daniel. She drew a band on her wrist! That's why she ran away when you touched for the first time!"

I drag Charlie back towards Amy and Daniel, Elena grabbing his other hand to help me tug him along. He can't seem to move, eyes wide and hollow. 

"She-she-" he whispers, shaking his head slowly as if he's in a trance. Denial.

Denial boils to anger. "Gather everyone" he demands. "I want to expose the filthy liar in front of everyone!"

Soulmate bands are precious, you don't mess with their power. Any messing with them, from any person of any age, is frowned upon immensely. It's 'make the whole school hate you' level.

"Amy is a liar!" I spit, hating the look of grief in Charlie's eyes. He doesn't deserve this, nobody does.

People gather around, Amy's eyes going wide with terror. Her lip is trembling, and she hides behind Daniel for support. 

"They- they" Charlie shakes his head, burying his face in his hands. "You tell them George..." he mutters.

I take a look at the large crowd gathered around, addressing them confidently. "Amy has betrayed the soulmate bands. She tricked Charlie, only to be exposed by finding her own soulmate. Look at them."

My lip curls into a snarl, a feral level of anger as I stare down the heartbreaker. "Matching coloured soulmate bands."

Suddenly, everyone falls quiet. "Tell us, tell us what colour they are" Elena whispers. 

"The-" I pause, begging I'm right. "The orange bands. Red for Daniel, yellow for Amy. A perfect combination of both."

As if on cue, the crowd erupts into laughter. I stare, frozen to the spot as I look around me. Everyone is laughing. Amy and Daniel, Elena and the rest of the crowd. And when I look to my side, I realise.

Charlie's laughing too.

"Are you okay in the head?" Daniel asks between laughing fits. "My band is red you idiot! Both mine and my soulmate's favourite colour is red. And Amy's-" He holds the laughing girl's wrist right in front of my face. 

"Is fucking yellow. So is Charlie's. They're soulmates, you colourblind idiot." Daniel smirks with a devil's smile to the crowd. "He actually fell for it!"

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I run inside as fast as I can. Someone's following me, and I will myself to run faster. I've been embarrassed in front of the entire school, now they all know.

Entering the bathrooms, I pick the furthest stall from the entrance and lock myself in it. Collapsing against the door, it suddenly swings open as the lock is busted from the other side. 

Who I thought was my best friend, Charlie, faces me, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. "You really thought we were friends. Pfft." 

I try to run past him, but he grabs me by the shirt collar. My feet are lifted off the floor, Charlie is a few inches taller than me.

"You're ridiculous. How do you expect to kill your target when you can't even tell what colour their eyes are? Pathetic."

He throws me aside with little care, my jaw the first thing to collide with the floor. Blood splatters the white tiles, staining them pink. Maybe it's not pink, I don't know.

Red, pink, green, orange, yellow. It's all the same to me. 

Charlie offers me a small smile before turning to leave. "Shame you can't be normal. Would've made life easier for you."

He kicks me with his trainers, admiring the blood running down my face. 

"You don't know what it's like." 

He smirks, closing the bathroom door behind him with a little sarcastic wave. 

My only friend betrayed me. 

~Flashback over~

People think you only have two enemies in this world: your hunter and your target. They're wrong, it's different for me. To me, everyone is dangerous. I learnt that the hard way, and it still stings.

Absentmindedly I trace my thumb over the scar on my jawline, letting the tears fall willingly. There's nobody here to see.

"Uh... George?"

I'm met with the face of Nick, who's squinting at me funny. "Having a moment are you? I get it."

No, you don't.

He pulls something out of his bag, handing it to me. "You dropped this in the alleyway, thought I'd return it."

It's Dream's mask.

Did he not take it with him?

The smiley face is cracked, mask splintered from the impact with the floor. Before I can refuse, Nick is walking away. 

"I'd be more careful if I were you" he hollers over his shoulder. "People are dangerous. You could've easily been snuck up on."

"Wait-" I gasp with a trembling voice. "Didn't you see Dream?"

Nick shakes his head slowly. "No, George. You're being ridiculous again" he leans against a lamppost on the street corner, readjusting his bandana.

"Only you can see Dream."


	13. Stay With Me

-George's POV-

"Wait what do you mean only I can see him?!"

I run off after Nick, grabbing his arm and dragging him back into the park. "You know something I don't. What aren't you telling me?"

Surprisingly he lets me, and I drag him to a bench on the far side so it's harder for us to be spotted. I sit down on the bench, and he squints at the spot beside me nervously. "Is... Dream sat there?" he asks, pointing towards the spare next to me on the bench. 

He waves his hand in front of him, like he can feel something there. "No" I scoff. "What are you talking about anyway? There's nothing there!"

He smiles, sitting next to me. "Are you seriously that confused?" he snorts. The black-haired boy pulls out his blade, cleaning dried blood from it absentmindedly. 

It must be nice to be him, to not have to care about getting attacked all the time. People aren't stupid enough to attack an elite assassin. Which probably means I'm safe for now.

I miss the safety I felt around Dream. Thinking back on it, he did have a good reason to argue back. For some stupid reason I got angry over him trying to protect me. He offered to kill Techno for me. Impossible, but why would he say that?!

"George I can see you thinking through your stupidity" he smirks. "What's on your mind?"

I scoot further away, putting as much distance between us as I can. "What makes me think I'll tell you? You're literally one of the people trying to hurt me!"

Nick lifts a finger in protest. "Correction. I'm not trying to hurt you, Techno is." He finishes cleaning his sword, placing it back in his scabbard at his waist. 

"But if you ask me, your worst enemy is yourself. You think everyone is trying to hurt you."

"Better to be cautious than naïve!" I retort, wondering where the hell he's going with this conversation. I ask as much, and his reply is simple.

"You're pushing away the wrong person, George."

Wind whistles through the park, chilling as the sun fades to nightfall. Shadows creep over the surrounding alleyway, making them even more dangerous. People could be hiding in them.

Run. It's a trap, he's trying to get you killed-

My head is screaming for me to leave, but I remain rooted to the spot. "How would you know?" I mutter.

The assassin offers me a weak smile. "It's not good for you to block everyone out. Believe me, I've been trying to for so long. Ever since my soulmate died, I lost my best friend too. It's hard to, I get that."

"Look" he holds his hands in the air, away from his scabbard. "I don't know your life story, but I can tell you've seen some shit. It takes the right person to show you people aren't all evil."

His hands remain in the air, showing me he's not going to attack me. Eyes on the sky above, sighing sadly to the wind. "We have soulmates for a reason. Something has to keep us going."

He turns back to me. "Know that someone out there loves you. Maybe they don't know it yet, but they do. Someone still loves you, idiot. Don't push them away."

I roll my eyes, allowing myself to relax a little out of the constricted position I curled into. "If you're talking about Dream, he isn't my soulmate."

He shakes his head sadly. "Dream wasn't my soulmate. Yet he still trusted me. He had my back, whenever I was hurt he was right there to help me." Sapnap snorts, spacing out as if he's remembering something.

"I know that guy can be a pissbaby. He has his moments, we all do. But underneath, he's one of the most caring people around. Dream would've died for me, he almost did once..."

Nick snaps out of his trance, returning his gaze to me. "Have you seen his face?"

Deciding it can't do any damage, I answer honestly. "Yes, I have."

"Then you'll have seen the ridiculous amount of scars he has. Reckless, but loving. My hunter was persistent, attacked us night after night. Dream always stood in to help, and almost died so many times to protect me."

His eyes focus, pupils constricting despite the darkening sky around us. "Don't waste someone like him, even if he's not your soulmate. Dream doesn't trust people easily, he must've noticed something about you."

The stories match up. Dream told me the same thing when he showed me his face for the first time. Not everything he told me was lies, he did that for someone who he knew wasn't his soulmate. Who was unknowingly his hunter, yet he didn't care. 

Nick didn't kill him, despite having so many chances to. He could've stuck around, played it off and killed Dream in his sleep. But he didn't, he ran away to protect him. They aren't soulmates, yet they'd have died for each other. 

To one boy, his best friend betrayed him. But to the other, he's protecting him. Two different perspectives of the same situation. Miscommunication can really mess things up.

Maybe I'm being too harsh, and over Dream a chance. Nick is right, he's willingly put his life on the line for me. So easily he could've let Techno kill me, but he didn't. Even after finding out we weren't soulmates.

'No, Dream. You don't know what it's like.'

Maybe he does know what it's like.

"Dream won't have seen a medic you know" Nick adds. "He won't even trust them to patch him up. So you probably owe it to him to turn back and help."

There's what my mind is telling me to do, and then there's the other option. 

Nick suddenly rises, signalling the end to our conversation. "Oh and by the way" he adds nonchalantly. "There's an assassin watching us from the left street down. Not one of my group, an outsider. I'd advise leaving through the park and not the alleyways."

Shuffling can be heard from behind us as flashes of clothing appear through the shadows. Nick pulls out his sword, jabbing it I the direction of where the assassin must be. 

"Yeah you asshole! Don't think I didn't see you!" he yells to the moving shadow.

I snort, turning to leave through the park. Conveniently, it's in the direction I wanted to go. "Bye shortie" he hollers, turning to leave.

"Wait!" I grab his wrist, spinning him back around. Every time I touch someone, I cringe. Human contact is not my thing, it makes me feel even more vulnerable.

Except that doesn't seem to apply to Clay, George... 

"Why do you keep helping me?" There's got to be a reason. He wouldn't help me if he wasn't getting something out of it. This is the same person who attacked me this morning.

"I told you, I'm not helping you. I'm helping him." With that the elite assassin leaves, walking into a shadowed alleyway as he knows I'm not dumb enough to follow him.

Talk about reckless...

I head off through the park, knowing exactly where I need to be.

~~~

The tree hollow is just as I expected, inhabited. By none other than Clay himself, who for some reason didn't feel the need to block up the entrance.

Stupid of him...

"Clay?" 

He shudders, on indict reaching for his dagger. "Woah! Put the dagger down! It's me!"

"What do you want..." he mutters. Despite his attitude, he puts the blade away. Turning to face me, his eyes widen upon realising I'm actually here.

I hand him his mask, making sure not to break his gaze. "I came to apologise..." Taking a step towards him, I internally sigh in relief when he doesn't move away.

"I'm not sure if it's the right colour. Sorry" I cringe. Slowly, I push the stem of the flower in my hand into his hair. "I'm not very good with red. It's hard for me." 

Admiring the flower in his hair, I allow myself a few seconds to recollect my thoughts. I need to get this right.

God he's pretty...

"I think it's the same one as you gave me? Sorry if it isn't, I-" Suddenly he grabs my hands, pulling me down towards him and enveloping me in a tight embrace. 

We remain like that for a few seconds, wrapped in each other's arms. There's tears in my eyes and he's smiling so brightly it'd make the sun envious.

"You gave me a second chance, so it's only fair I give you one." He leans a little closer, whispering into my ear. "You scared me. Thought I'd lost you."

I laugh softly, not daring to move. "Sapnap knocked some sense into me." He returns my laugh with a smile. "Good."

"Stay with me, sunshine."


	14. Rebuilt Bonds

-George's POV-

"So walk me through that again."

Clay rolls his eyes playfully, hissing as I clean the wound on his head he was stubborn enough not to have checked over by Darryl. At least he remembered to get some medical supplies, so I can use my shitty first aid skills to patch him up.

"Nick and I were friends. He left me, I now know that it was to protect me, to join the elite assassins." I made sure to clarify what Nick had told me, thinking it only right we got everything out in the open.

No more secrets, no more lies.

Clay in return agreed to explain his past to me. Something he seemed nervous about, until he started talking. Five minutes later, and he still hasn't shut up about all the things him and Nick got up to. They were close friends, that much is obvious. Clay clearly misses him too.

"So I came in search of my soulmate, as I can't stand being alone. Then I stumbled across you." He pokes my side with his gloved hand. "Shame, of all the people I could've found, it was you."

"Touché. Are you suggestion it would've been better for you if I wasn't found just before I was about to die?"

"Hah. GeorgeNotFound" he snorts. I give him a confused look, not understanding the joke at all. "Why is it funny?"

The blonde shrugs. "No idea. Just was."

"You have such a weird sense of humour" I sigh, taking his hand to hold his arm straight while I bandage it with the other. 

It takes an embarrassing amount of strength to ignore the warmth of his hands, how our fingers interlock perfectly as if they were made to be together.

You're being weird again George... 

But can I just...

Clay hisses in pain again, and I use that as my excuse to take his hand. I smile at him sweetly, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand. "Thanks" he winces, trying his best to hide the pain beneath. He seems almost embarrassed by it.

Cute...

Shoving that thought aside, I focus back on... him. Which doesn't really help, as he's not wearing his mask. So I'm left staring at his pretty face, too busy getting lost in his eyes to bandage properly.

"If you ever enrol as an elite assassin, you better use that as your name" he smiles. Strangely enough, I like it. Yes that may be because he made up the name, but I'm not willing to admit that to him or myself.

"Maybe I will." The thought of me as an assassin is ridiculous. I don't have the capacity to kill my target, let alone anyone else's. "So why does everyone call you Dream?" I ask, genuinely curious. He's not an assassin, so why does he have a code name?

"I'm surprised you didn't ask that earlier." I can tell he contemplates if he should tell me the truth or not, which is unsettling. Trust is something I don't have, and need to get back. People need to earn trust, and he's not helping.

"As ridiculous as it may seem, Nick isn't the only one to have turned down an offer to the silent assassins." My mouth stupidly falls open as he speaks. Dream, an elite assassin?!

Possibly, yet he isn't.

"I turned it down for two reasons. One:" he holds up a finger as he talks, listing the reasons off. "Same reason as Nick, didn't want to leave my friends. Two:" he holds up another finger. "I'm not stupid."

"What do you mean you're not stupid?" I ask. People would beg to be an elite assassin, and Clay is acting like it's stupid. 

"Techno... has a problem with me" he begins awkwardly. "Did you hear the announcement while we were in the market?"

I nod. "Yeah, they're looking for you." And like the spiteful person I am, I can't resist adding another comment. "Looks like I'm not the only one who's living a hard life."

Clay rolls his eyes. "Okay Mr 'you don't know what it's like'" he mocks. Tension suddenly knots between us. "Yeah but... seriously" I drop my gaze to the floor. "Please try to understand, I've had a pretty messed up past."

A delicate hand grazes my cheek, making my skin warm beneath its' touch. Careful, slow as if asking for permission to stay. Gathering my confidence, I take his hand in mine, placing it back on my cheek. 

Clay smiles reassuringly, stroking my cheek with his thumb as I did to his hand. I lace my hand over his, holding it against my face so that he can't let go. 

"Yeah... someone has hurt you..." he whispers to me. Best comparison I have is to when someone is trying to tell you something bad without making you burst into tears.

The look of worry must show on my features, as Clay pulls me into a hug. Unsure of what to do, I nervously wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his shoulder. 

The hoodie he wears smells of pine from the forest, mixed with something sweet, like vanilla. Inviting and safe, things I've always wanted. He holds me close, caressing my back softly. 

"You looked like you needed a hug" he mumbles into my ear. I nod, tensing at the close contact between us. I've not hugged someone in years, so long that the touch of someone else is almost alien to me. 

"I'm sorry" I mumble into his hoodie, guilty that I can't bring myself to pull away. "Why are you sorry?"

I sigh. "For being a child. The world is unfair, I just have to suck it up." His words from the alleyway come to me, and I immediately cringe for near quoting what he yelled to me. 

"George I didn't mean it..." His tone is so regretful it hurts. "I know you didn't," I stutter. "I-"

Out of embarrassment I pull away, burying my head in my sleeves. My choice of words was awful, and now he thinks I'm holding on to that. 

I've never been one to hold grudges, and I especially don't want to taint our reforming friendship. Any damage done to it could be fatal, and I can't lose him again.

I can't lose him.

"George come here..." he whispers, lightly pulling my sleeves away from my face. Tears streak my cheeks from crying like a child, embarrassment flooding me. Clay pulls me towards him, resting my head against his chest.

It's then I realise our position. I'm effectively being cradled by him, almost sat in his lap. My head against his chest, and I close my eyes as I listen to the thrumming of his heartbeat. It's fast, faster than it should be.

Words fail me, so I remain in silence. So does Clay, and it drags out long enough I attempt to speak. "I just... I- I- I'm not used to other people-" sobs choke out my words, and I force myself to stop crying. Fiercely I swipe away tears, making sure my face remains hidden from Clay.

"Ssh" he soothes, taking my hands in his and tracing circles on my palms. "It's okay."

And somehow, it feels okay. 

"Is this normal?" I ask quietly once I take back control over my tears. Voice steadier, less trembling now that the tears have stopped. 

"What do you mean?"

"This-" I signal to the position we're in. "Are people supposed to do this with each other?"

"Do you mean..." Clay pauses to contemplate his words. "Is this normal for friends or-"

"No, not like that!" I giggle, trying to distract myself from the heat rising to my cheeks. "Like- hugging."

"Have you never been hugged before?" he asks, shock evident in his tone. I don't need to be able to see his face to tell that his mouth is agape.

"Not since my parents-" I choke on my words, forcing myself to splutter our the last word. "Died."

"Oh Georgie..." he mumbles, tightening his arms around me. They sit comfortably around my waist, and it's taking all of my control not to blush ridiculously. I'm sure I'm doing a bad job of concealing it, but he can't see my face.

Thankfully.

"You've been treated so wrongly..." he trails off. "Yes, this is normal. Friends hug each other when they're sad or scared. It's called comfort."

"Thanks, I got that much" I giggle, forcing a laugh to lighten the mood. "I just... didn't have friends..."

Craving more comfort, I take one of his hands and place it back on my cheek. Warmth floods my flushed cheeks, causing me to lean further into his touch. 

Desperately I want to stay this way, ignoring the hunters and assassins and all the things this cruel world throws at us. I feel safe with him, and I haven't felt that way in a long time.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to" Clay reassures, probably recognising my discomfort. I nod, mumbling my words to the floor. "Maybe someday I will. But... not now."

Clay notices my uneasiness, and thankfully changes the topic back. "So yeah, Techno is after me. There's a bounty on my head and it gets bigger every day. Reason being he's seen me fight. He may act like he's all-powerful, but he's scared of someone too."

The blonde smirks, placing his hand over his chest as if he's making a formal speech. "That person is yours truly" Clay shuffles always from me to take a dramatic bow. "He's scared I'm his hunter."

I internally cringe at how much I miss his touch already.

He's not your soulmate-

I have to keep reminding myself of that fact. Well, not a fact, I'm not entirely sure. But the chances of us being soulmates are so small it's almost impossible.

He's not mine.

He's someone else's.

I play off my upsetting thoughts with a smirk, elbowing him in the ribs. "Are you?" He shrugs nonchalantly. "Haven't got my target profile. No idea. But it'd be funny if I was. Would give me another reason to kill him."

"You already have a reason to?"

"Duh" he rolls his eyes, and I take notice of a blush creeping across his freckled cheeks. "Protecting you, idiot. He'd be dead by now if you'd have just let me kill him while we were in the market."

"No, I'm not letting you get injured because of me." There's a matching blush on my face, I can feel the heat spreading across my own cheeks. "But thanks, it's nice to know you would."

"Of course, sunshine."

"Wh- stop calling me that!" I turn away, pretending to grab water from my bag as an excuse to hide my face. I don't need to see red or pink to tell I'm blushing like crazy.

"Anyway" he continues. "Knowing this, I accepted the offer. Spent a while with them to gain information, and that's when Nick's soulmate died."

"So that's why you know so much about each of them-"

"Also why I know their real names."

I nod, understanding that there must be a brain in his head somewhere after all. "Smart of you." He goes to take another exaggerative bow, and I shove him midway.

"They nicknamed me Dream when I joined them briefly. Techno still doesn't know why. Truth is, everyone hates Techno. He's cocky, and his arrogance pisses people off. So they called me Dream because I'm the person who could kill Techno. It's like a hope symbolism."

"Wow" I smirk. "Don't let that go to your head. Besides, they named you wrong. Should've called you nightmare."

"Why?" Clay scoffs. "Because it's scarier?"

"No. Because you are a fucking nightmare."

"Haha. Hilarious. Maybe I'll just keep your present after all."

My eyes light up like a kid's on Christmas Day. "You got me a present!"

"Yes. But I don't think you deserve it."

I pout childishly. "Why not?" I demand.

He starts listing the reasons off on his fingers. "One you yelled at me, two you stormed off, three you've just insulted me again-"

"Okay okay I get it. But you deserved it a little."

"Did not."

"Did too."

Clay holds his hands up in defeat, still smiling stupidly widely at me. "Whatever you say, sunshine."

"Shut it."

A thought comes to me, spilling out of my mouth before I can stop it. "Clay?"

"Yes, George?"

"Can I... have another hug?"

He smiles softly, wrapping me back in his arms. I close my eyes, savouring the moment. This is what deprivation of comfort for seven years has done to me. It's made me clingy, and I can't stop myself.

"You don't need to ask for hugs George" he laughs. "It's obvious you're deprived of them, and I like them..." 

"But you deserve to be comforted, so ask and you shall receive."

"Thanks Clay" I mumble into his hoodie. "You don't need to thank me..." 

"It's what friends do."


	15. A Red Chrysanthemum

-George's POV-

"Anyway, your present..."

Clay reaches behind him, pulling something out of his bag. A pair of glasses, black lenses with large, white rims. They're shaped more like an oval, with tinted lenses, which make me think they may be sunglasses.

"I know it's not as good as a mask, but it's the best I could find. Better than nothing." 

He cleans the lenses with the hem of his white sweater, making sure not to use one of the bloody areas. Clay could really do with some new clothes, his current ones are crusted with dried blood from who knows how long ago.

"Seeing as it seems to be more dangerous for you to wear my mask than none at all" he smirks. We laugh a little, remembering how I was attacked by the third person I saw upon entering the city because I was wearing it.

"So here. They at least hide your eyes, which will make it a little harder for you to be recognised." He leans towards me, placing the glasses on my face. I adjust them so they're straight, happy that the lenses don't taint my vision a different colour.

"Cute. The glasses- they're cute." He smiles, returning some other things to his bag. "Thanks" I blush, pushing the glasses up so they rest on my head. "You got it easy. Nobody even knows what you look like."

"Techno does. He attacked me once, and snapped the tie holding it around my head." My stomach drops a little knowing that Clay is also in danger. 

Why do I care?

Because we're friends, George. That's what friends do.

"Then you need to be more careful" I remark sternly. "You're reckless as hell, and as much as I hate you, the idea of you getting hurt annoys me more."

My eyes flicker to his face, the multiple scars littering it. "You've been hurt too much..." I mumble. 

"You hate me? Love you too" he smirks sarcastically, yet his smile is sweet and warm. There's little dimples in his cheeks, only adding to the cuteness.

Shut up.

He's not your soulmate.

"But thanks. It's nice to know someone cares about me. I haven't had someone to do that since Nick left." 

I haven't had anyone to do that since I thought Charlie was my friend. Turns out it was all just to gain my trust so it'd hurt more when he stabbed me in the back later. I hope Clay is different. 

Somehow, I already know he is. Just something, I don't know what, tells me he's safe. Maybe it's the comfort I feel whenever I'm around him, maybe it's his willingness to help me.

Maybe we're...

My eyes trail back to his covered wrist, desperate to know if anything lays underneath. But revealing that would mean I'd have to reveal what's under my own, it's only fair. There's so many reasons why I can't do that. 

It's not because of him, it's because of me. When there's the small chance my soulmate is dead. That my wrist may be empty, that it may have a coloured band on it...

That doesn't match his. 

There's no denying the main reason why I can't. To see Clay's wrist, and to see a band on it that isn't the same colour as my own. Or to see a black band, or maybe even no band at all. It's stupid and awful, but I really want them to match.

I want him to be mine.

And that thought alone is enough to drive me crazy. After pushing people away for so long, I find comfort in this idiot. At least I've found someone.

"George it's raining again-" Clay says as a way to break the silence. I roll my eyes. We need to travel back to the city and find somewhere to stay there. "Great" I mutter.

"I'm guessing you want to go back to the city?"

"Preferably" I nod, ruffling my hair so the glasses sit better in it. "Finding somewhere to stay on the outskirts would be great. Now that I know where my target is, we can work from that."

"That is... assuming you want to come with me" I add awkwardly. Clay shakes his head slowly, a smile on his face. "Ridiculous question. Of course I'm coming, someone's got to save your ass whenever you inevitably get attacked again."

"And someone has to keep you out of trouble. Can't have you dying on me." I add.

The thought of Clay dying twists my gut, making me so mad I want to kill whoever did it. Then I have to remind myself that he's okay, and that I don't need to kill anyone except Darryl just yet. 

Although I wouldn't object to killing the people who gave him those scars. 

"Have any flowers?" I joke, and to my surprise he does. Fresh ones, as the old ones wouldn't survive the trip in his bag. 

New shapes and sizes, probably colours too. They don't vary as much as the old ones do, and I'm convinced he's got three of the same colour.

"I found one of these" he says, picking up the three near identical flowers. "They're called anemones, and I found them in four different colours!" 

Clay picks up another flower, blue instead of the three yellow. "Figured I'd make it harder for you. Even if you've seen these around, you don't know what colour they generally are." He shoves them towards me with a smile. "I love anemones. Aren't they pretty?"

I scoff, looking between the three flowers that are just three shades of yellow to me. "I hate them already."

"That's the spirit" he wheezes. Clay has a strange laugh, it sounds like he's letting off steam. Strange, but unique, and somehow it suits him.

"So tell me, what colour is this one?"

"Blue" I say confidently, at least able to distinguish that one. "Good. That should be easy for you." He pushes the stem of the flower into my hair, picking up another one.

"Yellow." Clay then does the same with the new flower, positioning them around my glasses. He makes sure to straighten out the petals. 

"Are you doing this with every flower?" I laugh, not sure how much I can handle our faces being so close together. "Only with every one you get right."

"I'm going to look like a bush by the end of this."

Another ridiculous wheeze from the younger. "That's not my problem. Think of it more as a flower crown."

"It's definitely more of a bush."

Clay continues to quiz me on flowers, and I pause him every few to finish bandaging his arm. He's so reckless, I need to keep an eye on him. Something tells me that just because he's got so many scars already, doesn't mean he isn't prepared to get more.

"So... George..." he begins quietly. "I have two questions..."

"Alright. Ask away."

"What's with the mark on your jaw?"

Shit.

"Uh..." I flinch, subconsciously moving a hand to cover the scar. Clay grabs my hand midway, holding onto it. "You don't have to explain it if you don't want to. It just caught my eye..."

"It's-" my words catch in my throat. "It's a scar, from that thing that I don't want to talk about." Clay mouths an 'oh', a sad look flashing in his eyes which he immediately manages to hide. So he's learning, and trying. Comforting.

As if he wasn't already...

"Sorry..." I whisper, ashamed as I look away. The event isn't even that bad. Just stupid Charlie, shoving me to the floor in the bathrooms. My jaw cut open on a rough tile, and it scarred. It's not how I got the scar, it's what came before it that I don't want to explain.

"No don't apologise" he soothes, tightening his grip on my hand. My chin is lifted until our eyes match, and it takes far too much effort not to get lost in those eyes. "You don't have to tell me" he whispers, moving his hand away from my chin and back to the flowers. 

Our hands remain together on the floor between us, and neither of us complain. Awkward, yet comforting at the same time. Just the urge to know he's here, and that I'm with him. 

I'm probably too attached due to being alone for so long, it's probably turned me clingy. Now I'm scared to lose him, scared that anything will happen to him. I've finally found someone, and the thought of him being ripped away terrifies me. 

I can't lose him.

Attachment issues. One person is nice to me, and I'm clinging on to them like they'll disappear. Probably because I don't let most people near me in the first place. It's probably my fault I'm like this.

"How about this one?" He picks up the final flower, which is the most peculiar looking one. "Uh..." I squint at the strange shade of yellow, like it'll help me distinguish the colour better. 

It's probably red or green. We've already gone multiple red and green flowers, he must've added more because it's the colours I struggle with the most. 

On instinct, I look around for anything I know is green to compare it to. Despite the green grass below our blankets, my first thought is Clay's eyes.

Of course it is.

They don't match, so I presume it must be the other. Cleverly, Clay has put the flowers in my hair. Last time, once I knew a flower was a certain colour, it'd use it to compare the other flowers. Now I can't see which is which.

"Uh... red?" I ask unsurely. Clay shakes his head. "Green."

"Damn it!" I yell in frustration. "It doesn't match your eyes though!" 

"There's multiple shades of green, George" he comments. "Plus it matches the grass, you could've just used that-"

"Oh shut up."

Clay wheezes, reaching forward to put the flower in my hair. "You can have it anyway" he smiles. I stop his hand, taking the flower in my own and putting it in his hair instead. "No, you should have that one. It's green, your favourite."

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did, stupid." 

"Cute. Well this flower was going to be red anyway, it just hasn't fully bloomed yet."

"That's cheating-"

"It's not" he laughs. "It's still green for now." 

"But I was technically right."

"It's green for now, so no, you weren't." Clay blushes, taking the flower out of his hair and admiring it fondly. Apparently different flowers have different meanings, Clay knows a lot of them.

I wonder if he knows this one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chrysanthemums:
> 
> Chrysanthemums symbolize optimism and joy.   
> They're the November birth flower.   
> The color of the flower can also affect the meaning behind the chrysanthemum.   
> For example, if you receive a red chrysanthemum from someone, it is a symbol of love.


	16. Pastel Blue Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter goes from the PoV of someone other than George.

-??? POV-

The streets of Central City are as lively as usual for a Sunday morning. Hunters and targets alike flocking the markets for the fresh supplies. Sunday is the day the markets restock, so people try to get in early to snag the rarest supplies before heading back out of the city.

Market stalls litter the underground, all far enough from the stage to suggest there's another meeting today. Probably another elite assassins announcement to amend their bounty list. 

It has always confused me that they announce their bounties publicly. Elite assassins go after their own hunters in private, as it is believed you should. Dignity and honour and all that royalty shit. The elite assassins aren't royalty by any means, but that doesn't stop them from acting like it.

Stood on the far side of the stage is my ex-best friend. He stands polishing his sword, a recurring habit of his from a long time ago. Grey, just like everyone else is. I'd thought that Nick may be different, judging our history. But I was wrong. Same colour as everyone else.

Only he is different. 

Dave appears on stage, waltzing around like he owns the place. Effectively he does, a powerful force respected by all below him. There's nobody above him, none even at his level. Except maybe me. 

Draped around his shoulders is a cloak. Red but discoloured, made to match the grey of everyone else. In my eyes, they all look the same. It's like looking at the world through a filter, like a dusty grey lens was fixed over my eyes.

Is this what the world looks like to him?

Similar, but not the same. We aren't the same, and it should remain that way. Better remain that way, or we're both gone. Permanently, not living like this with this distorted lens I see the world through. 

Dave lacks the relaxed sarcasm he usually radiates. Seriousness in his features, brows knitted as he carefully scans the crowd. 

I know who you're looking for, and you won't find him here.

He's here, but you don't know that. You can't.

Only he can.

The leader of the elite assassins breaks into his speech, addressing the room with a facade of calm. His every move is calculated, that of a trained actor as well as a killer. 

People think it's impressive that he's reached this stage at just past 21. It is, but I'm younger. Some know how lethal I am, some refuse to acknowledge it. Dave knows, and that's why he's here. Why he's asking for help, and flaunting confidence like it's going out of style.

I'm powerful. More powerful than Dave. Not like this, but how I used to be. Here I'm safer.

I'm safer like this, but he isn't.

And that's what's important.

My purpose now is to protect him. Protect him from harm, and from the truth. He can't know, it's too dangerous. I know what he's like, he'd try to help. He'd do whatever it takes, even without knowing everything. I know he would.

Why? Because he's him. Unlike everyone else. He doesn't fit in, and he knows it, but that's ok. But even so, there's something different about him. Not just in my eyes, but in everyone's. 

Most seem to think it negative. But I can tell, I can tell it's positive. And I know from experience that I'm right. I know him better than he thinks.

There's three things he can't know. It's for his safety, I swear that to myself when I debate telling him. It'll only get him hurt, and I couldn't live with myself if that happened.

He's special. He's perfect. He's kind. He's loving. He's better than the people that did him wrong, he just cant see it.

But I know he's perfect. Even if I can't see right now, I did once. Then I knew, but I knew too late. 

My eyes drift over to the medic's store shrouded in shadow by the overhang of the stage. Inside sit two boys, one in the window and one stood beside him. Angel and devil. Names lie, and the Devil's is proof. I've designated him the devil. It's not his fault, but my eyes see it that way. 

Those two boys are the only colourful things here. One of them is red. Pure red, evil and haunting. Not by his choice, and not in everyone's eyes. 

Maybe he's the angel in other's eyes, in the eyes of his own soulmate who stands not too far away. But to me, he's not. The wrong person is wearing the halo, I told you names lie.

The boy beside him is the opposite. Blue, a pastel blue like the sky on a sunny day. Sunshine, my sunshine. He sits in the window, beside the boy shown to me in red. A horrified look in his eyes, guilt turning his stomach. He must know, but not like I do. 

This world was cruel to the boy perceived in pastel blue. Unfair, handed the worst cards from the deck and told he can't redraw. People have plucked away the best of the worst cards, chipping away at his hand until only the worst remain.

If only you knew, sunshine.

Dave makes his speech, announcing the newest bounty. It's been increased again, unsurprisingly. And it'll increase a lot more, due to the condition of the bounty themselves. Only one can find me, and he'd never hand me in.

Sunshine leaves, heading towards an alleyway on the opposite side of the stage as the crowd surrounding it disperses. It's hard to get through the crowd in my condition, but not impossible. 

The look in sunshine's eyes as he waits for me reminds me of one I've seen before. Hollow and empty, yet fearful. Confused and lost, scared and upset. 

Without hesitation I wrap him into a hug, and he hugs back. Pastel blue turns turquoise on contact, reminding me. As soon as he lets go, he fades back to pastel blue. 

I'm glad it's me here and not him. But I wish the world was a little more fair, dealt him one decent card to he wasn't so alone. I'm here, and he knows it. It's just everyone else who's confused.

Let them be confused.

Here, it's ok. Just him and I, me and my sunshine. This is ok. Bright eyes, pastel blue and shining bright enough the sun itself would be envious. Sunshine. 

Special, perfect, kind, loving. After all the wrong done to him, he's still strong. That pastel blue boy hurts inside, and nobody knows. Nobody except me, and I'm trying my best to change that. But I can't completely, theres three pieces missing. I have the pieces, but I can't fill them in.

Wrong. I could, but I'm not going to. To do so would be selfish, and that's not me. Sunshine deserves better than that, even if he believes otherwise.

I'm sorry, but this is for your own good.

Pastel blue takes a few steps away, and when I come back in he's yelling. Features contorted in rage, but over what?

I wasn't listening. Selfishly, I indulged myself in his pretty face instead of his pretty words. Now they're venomous, as they should be. Fire on fire as I talk back, only fuelling the flame. 

Sunshine isn't shining anymore. My vision of him can't be tainted, but the one of himself can. Dark, losing the sun and its' shine.

Come back-

He steps back, still yelling. Telling me I don't understand, I can't understand. He's right, I don't understand. Can't understand, I'm not him. 

I'm not like him anymore.

He doesn't trust me. Sensibly, but I can't make him. No matter what I try, he always moves away. Like he does now, taking steps back so quickly he almost trips over.

Until he's gone too far.

The grey returns, a blade through my sunshine's stomach. He watches me with wide eyes as his life slips away, the anger refusing to fade until his life does. Consciousness leaves, returning the darkness I once felt. The grey boy behind laughs, smiling as someone materialises behind him.

I wish that was me.

But it isn't, and it never will be. My sunshine is gone, so I must too. I had one job: protect him. And I've failed, like I always do. Second life used up, wasted. Useless, at least the first had a benefit. Maybe I shouldn't have ever met him.

Maybe it's better this way...

~~~

-George's POV-

I'm awoken by a scream, high-pitched and full of terror. My first thought is that someone has just been attacked by their hunter. Chances are they're already dead, and the scream was accompanied only by their final breath. I'm wrong, and I find the owner of the scream as I turn to my companion.

Clay's eyes are tightly screwed shut, eyebrows scrunched tightly. Breathing ragged, lips slightly parted as he practically hyperventilates. Nails dug deep into his palms, white knuckles with blood sucked from them.

"Uh... Clay?" I nervously place my hand on his shoulder, realising how cold he is. His body trembles beneath my touch, wracked with fear from whatever just happened.

I focus on trying to prey his nails out of his palms, scared he'll draw blood if he scrunches his fingers any tighter. "Clay what happened?" I ask cautiously, taking his hands in mine. I catch his pulse, racing far faster than it should be. 

"You- you-" he gasps, trying to cover his still tightly closed eyes. I hold onto his hands, interlocking our fingers so it's harder for him to pull them away.

"Okay" I nod, pretending to understand. I'm not good with comforting people, it's been a long time since I tried to. Different things work for different people. But I know something that works for Clay.

Slowly, I let go of one of his hands. As soon as he tries to clench it into a fist again, I realise my plan is flawed. Once I manage to pry open his hand, I lay it flat against my chest, keeping my own over his to hold it in place.

"You feel that?" I breathe dramatically, dragging out individual breaths to make it easier for him to follow. My answer is a terse nod, which is enough for me.

"Focus on breathing in time with me. Match yours to mine, breath in and out only when I do." It takes a few attempts, but Clay slowly manages to adjust his breathing pattern to match my own. We remain like that until his breathing returns to almost a regular pace.

The entire time, my chest is stupidly laced with butterflies. Mercifully, his hand is on the opposite side of my chest to my heart. He can probably still feel it hammering in my chest, which can't be helpful, but at least he hasn't mentioned anything about it.

In fact, he hasn't spoken at all. Not since he tried to choke out words, which inevitably failed him. 

"I-" he stops, taking another deep breath and trying again. Voice still shaking, but calm enough he sounds relatively normal. "You were dead. He killed you- Dave killed you-" His words cut off again, and he doesn't try to speak anymore.

"It's okay" I reassure, tracing circles on the palms of his hands. "I'm okay, I'm right here." He pulls his hands away, and for a moment I worry I've done something wrong. Those fears are quickly forgotten as he pulls me into a tight embrace, pulling us so close together I'm pressed against his chest. 

"Sorry" he apologises, taking my shoulders and pushing me away. I shake my head, burying my face back into his shirt almost instantly to hide my ridiculous blush. "It's okay, it's nice" I mumble into his sweater.

'Nice'.

"I like it" I add, appalled by my limited ability to form sentences correctly whenever we touch. Ridiculous, he's not my soulmate. We're friends, but I wish we weren't. I wish we were more than that.

I'm crushing on the first friend I've made in seven years. 

Pathetic. You're just deprived of others. That's the only reason why. You've had friends before, and not fallen for them.

Not real friends. He's different, and that's probably why I'm more drawn to him than anyone else. 

But he's not my soulmate. 

Yet I'm crushing on him anyway. That's what this is. It's a crush, and I can't deny it. Of course I'd fall in love with the wrong person, just my luck.

As if the world wasn't cruel enough to me already...

It's stupid, the way I indulge myself in his warmth and refuse to let go first. Clingy and stupid, yearning for comfort so badly that when I find even the tiniest bit, I'll hold onto it for dear life. Like it'll slip through my fingers and fade completely.

Arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly. I'm supposed to be the one comforting him, but that seems to have changed.

"Sorry I don't know how to comfort people-" I mumble to him. He laughs softly, curling strands of my hair around his fingertips. 

The butterflies beat their wings against my chest, swarming my heart and overpowering my thoughts. Thinking straight is impossible when I'm melting under his touch.

"We... really need to head back to the city in an hour" I comment shyly, admiring the light that seeps in through the hollows of the alcove. Clay hums in response, not moving at all.

"But that's in an hour. And this is now."

I giggle at his dazed response. "True."

"Then let's stay like this for a while."


	17. Heart Over Head

-George's POV-

"Clay how many flowers-"

The blonde shoots me a daring smirk, traversing the rocky slopes either side of the valley with no difficulty. Jagged rocks protrude from the surface of the slopes, some definitely sharp enough to do damage. 

Clay seems unfazed, picking flowers from the slopes and jumping over the holes in the rock. Not far up the mountains, he seems to stick low to the ground despite most of the flower clumps residing further up the mountainsides. 

"Never know when we'll next see flowers Georgie" he remarks, stopping to observe a couple of what I recognise to be the same flowers from yesterday.

"I swear if you pick any more of those bloody chrysanthemums-" My answer is a loud wheeze, so loud I'm surprised Clay manages to keep his balance while laughing. Clutching at his sides still with one hand, he uses the other to pluck a few of the awful flowers to add to his bouquet.

"You're acting like Central City is a barren wasteland" I yell over his wheezing. "It's not overly green, but there's still signs of life in it."

"How the fuck would you know it's green?" he snorts, rearranging the flowers in his hands in what I presume must be colour order.

Ouch.

When I don't follow with a spiteful remark, Clay climbs back down towards me on the path. I amble along the path quietly, rubbing my arm with a hurt expression plastered on my face. "Sorry" Clay mumbles, placing a hand on my shoulder to stop me from walking. "I shouldn't have said that."

We stand awkwardly, both unable to match the other's eyes. Clay disappears again shortly after, climbing higher up the mountainside. I turn to see where he's gone, and I notice he's almost halfway up. Except, there's something wrong.

He's deathly pale, fingers gripping stones jutting out with pure white knuckles. He climbs a little higher, taking shaky and clumsy movements in fear. 

"Oh my god! Clay!!" I yell as he loses his grip for the second time, swaying dangerously. Even on a slope, falling from that far could injure him pretty badly. Without a second thought I follow him up the mountainside, careful which path up I take.

There's no obvious routes, but some stones are more worn down than others, presumably where either Clay or someone else has used them besides. Clay, who's shaking with his eyes screwed shut as he clings to the rocks above him, trying his best to hold himself steady. 

What is he doing?

After far longer than it took Clay, I manage to reach his level. It's not far from there to the ledge, and I manage to pull myself up. Clay watches me with wary eyes the entire time, like I'm going to fall. 

"You shouldn't have come up here you idiot." He tries to sound confident, but his wavering voice fails him. I shake my head, leaning over the ledge to try and grab his hand. "Nor should you. What's the problem? It's not that hard." 

Embarrassment flashes in the blonde's eyes for a second, long enough that I see it. "Are you scared of-"

"I'm scared of heights" he interrupts. "There, I said it. Stupid I know, but I am." That'd make sense as to why he was so desperate not to climb the tree a few days ago.

"Move aside, I can do this." He pushes me away from the ledge, mustering the confidence to pull himself up and over the edge. Almost immediately his smile returns, picking a load of flowers from a clump on the ledge. 

"You came up here for flowers?" I scoff, rolling my eyes as he examines the cluster for the biggest and brightest of the lot. "Yep. And you best be grateful." 

He leans towards me, so close that we're sharing breaths. Winding the flowers into my hair, tucking them under my glasses and behind my ears. 

After moving away to admire his work, he picks another of the same flower and hands it to me. "What colours is it?" he asks innocently with a smile.

"It's yellow and blue to me..." I squint at the flower as if it'll help me better distinguish the colours, plucking one of the petals and holding it closer to my face. Clay wheezes. "It wasn't a trick question. They are blue and yellow, a type of polyanthus."

He takes the flower from my hands, plucking the remaining petals and letting them blow away in the wind. "These flowers look exactly the same to me as they do to you."

The wind pulls some of the flowers from my hair, and I watch them scatter out in the breeze. Strong enough to carry them pretty far, but not enough to be threatening to us on this ledge. 

"So you decided to climb all the way up here to get the only yellow and blue flowers because you upset me, despite your fear of heights?" A silent nod, accompanied by a stupidly wide grin. 

I roll my eyes, blushing at how sweet he is. "You idiot" I scoff, taking the remaining flowers out of my hair and putting them in my bag before they blow away. 

"I think you meant to say 'Thank you Clay, I love you.'" He stores some of the flowers in his own bag, carefully arranging them so they won't get destroyed during our trip. 

"Pfft. I think not. You're not my soulmate."

"How can you be so sure?" He asks it casually, yet he awkwardly rubs at his gloved wrist. I catch myself subconsciously doing the same.

"We touched and nothing changed. It's not you." I try to think back to when we first touched, but for some reason can't. My memory is blank, the most recent one after I woke up. Clay has already touched me by then.

So what if it is...

"How would you know? Are you taking my word for it? You passed out." He picks more flowers, making holes in the stems to loop them together. I remember doing something similar as a kid with daisies, and making little flower crowns out of them.

"Are you suggesting we are?" 

He holds up his hands, dropping the string of flowers in his lap. "No. I'm just..." he trails off, picking back up the flowers. Impatiently, I take them from his hands, snapping the chain about three flowers from the end.

"Answer the question, Dream." He folds his arms, glaring at the broken flower stems in my hands. "Then fix the flower crown, George."

Carefully, I poke more holes in the stems, linking the flowers together. It reminds me of my childhood, and I hate it.

"You haven't seen your soulmate band yet. It just confuses me that you're not even interested."

He sighs, picking some more flowers to make a separate chain while I work on the broken one. "Do you not care? Soulmates are the one decent thing we get in this world, and you couldn't care less about them. Why not?"

Three responses come to me, and I choke up deciding which to tell him. "Because..."

I can't trust anyone, everyone abuses my friendship. Just because someone has a coloured band around their wrist means I should trust them?

I don't want to know who I'm betraying. I'm choosing to kill my target without the knowledge, and knowing they're still alive will only make it worse. How do I explain to them I've killed my target already if we ever meet?

It's another ploy to get me killed. Searching for my soulmate means letting down my guard. What if I die finding them?

There's another option that comes to me, one I don't want to admit. It's definitely the most prominent one. Stupid, and I can't tell him it for sure. He'd think I was crazy.

Because I like you. Love you, and can't accept the fact that you're destined to be with someone else. I'd rather be in denial with the tiniest chance it's you, than accept it isn't. 

I fell in love with someone I wasn't meant to. 

Great.

"Because I... can't." Of all the things I could've said, that's what slips out my mouth. It could lead to any of those answers. My own heart is betraying me, trying to spill my stupid feelings despite my head telling me I can't. Head over heart, I can't trust anyone.

Oh but I really, really want to...

Nobody else. Just him.

I must've zoned out for a while, as Clay is just finishing his flower crown. He pushes my glasses down, causing them to fall over my eyes. In their place he puts the flower crown, adding the few final flowers so that it perfectly fits my head. 

"What do you mean?" 

Slowly, he takes my hands in his. Calmly, wrapping his fingers gently over the top of my own. Even with the gloves his warmth from underneath seeps through, spreading from him to me. Stupid butterflies come back, swarming my stomach as I attempt to think straight.

"Would it..." he looks away. "Would it be easier if I checked at the same time as you? We can do it together." 

I freeze, unable to do anything at all. The world seems to distort and fall away under me. I can't meet his pretty eyes, those stupidly pretty eyes that I can't even see the colour of. 

I love him. I can't do this-

"Sure."

Fingers graze my cheek, tilting my head up to face him. "You sure?" he asks softly, eyes trailing to the scar on my jawline. "You don't have to, it's okay if you-"

"No. I'll do it, it's about time I do." 

We awkwardly pull our hands away, both nervously tugging at our gloves. It's been years since I looked at my wrist. Last time I did, it was empty. Whenever I change my gloves, I always look away. Can't face to see it.

"Wait-" I cut in. "Didn't you say you've never met your soulmate? Your wrist will be blank-" 

"That..." he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, like he knows something he shouldn't. "-May have changed..."

"So you've found your soulmate." 

"Yes. Well, maybe-"

Fear burns to anger at his words. "You've found your soulmate, and are pretending you haven't. You're that desperate to see mine?"

The guilt builds up in his eyes as he nervously knots his fingers in his lap. "Look, I don't want to lose you again. I really, really don't want this to repeat." He throws up his hands in defeat, cringing as he forces himself to spit out the last sentences. "So ask me anything you want about my soulmate. I'll answer, honestly. I swear."

The begging look in his eyes forces me to consider. That and it's Clay, I somehow can't turn him away no matter how much I want to at times. Because deep down, we're both just two lonely people.

"Fine. But you better answer me honestly."

He reaches for my hands, and I let him take them. "I swear."

"In that case, have you met them?"

Clay scrunches you his eyes, cringing at himself. "Yes."

"How long ago?"

"A few weeks ago."

We only met a few weeks ago. So Clay probably had met his soulmate before me. He's lied again.

"Why did you lie about it?"

"Because I didn't want to share I'd found my soulmate. It just felt... wrong. I needed to earn your trust."

"That's an awful answer" I spit, folding my arms. "Can I see?"

A curt nod, followed by the tugging of his gloves. Silently, he rolls up his sleeve, revealing his left wrist. There is indeed a band there. Yellow, but also sort of blue to me.

"What colour is it actually?"

"Turquoise" he cringes. Turquoise, a mix of green and blue. My favourite colour is blue, and his is-

He can't be-

There's no way-

Without thinking, I start removing my own gloves. Just incase it is, and he's been lying to me this entire time. 

As soon as I see my wrist, I swear my heart stops. Clay gasps, pulling me into a hug immediately. Discarding our argument, I let him, unable even find the strength to hug or fight back. 

Laying against his chest, I sob into his sweatshirt. He holds me tightly with one arm, gently running the other through my hair. He keeps telling me it's ok, but his words blur as I try to understand what I've just seen.

There is a soulmate band on my left wrist.

And it's pure black.


	18. Little Scars And Stories

-George's POV-

My soulmate is dead.

Who knows for how long, who knows when. Or even who to, probably their hunter. Maybe what to, and it happened in an accident. Either way, they're dead.

Our trip has been quiet since we revealed our soulmate bands. Clay has opted to cover his again, nervously rubbing over it whenever the silence drags out especially long. 

The blonde seems almost embarrassed by his band, refusing to talk about it anymore. I'm not eager to talk about mine either, but it's all I can think about.

My poor soulmate, dead for who knows long without me even knowing. Some believe your soulmate watches over you while you're alive. I've not met anyone who's been revived to know if that's true, but I'm desperately hoping it isn't.

I'm such a disappointment to you...

For all I know, they could've died the day after I looked at my band for what I thought would be the final time. That awful night, where I covered my wrist and ran away for good. 

"Does this..." Dream mumbles to the floor, looking up only briefly after to see if I'm even bothering listening to him. "Does this change anything with us?"

I sigh, thinking it through in my head. No, it doesn't. We didn't think we were soulmates, it's not like he pretended I was his. This is fine, it doesn't change a thing between us other than our trust wearing thin again.

Yes, this changes everything. I wanted us to be soulmates, and now I have confirmation we aren't. Some part of me still thought there was a chance, and I'm envious of the lucky person who gets to be yours.

I wanted to be yours.

Shoving down the feelings I'm desperate to share, I opt to answer him dishonestly. "No" I force myself to say, on the inside disagreeing. "It doesn't change anything, other than my trust."

Soulmates are both the best and worst thing to happen to this world. Depends on the person. For most, it's a godsend. Something to keep going for, knowing there's someone out there who's meant for you. Somewhere, there's someone who won't hurt you, someone who is truly safe.

To others, it can be awful. And by others, I mean me. Those unfortunate enough to fall in love with another, if there's even anyone else who has. It's probably just me who can't abide by the system. The system that decides who we are and aren't allowed to love.

Why does it get to decide who I love?

My attention turns back to the blonde, trudging along beside me with hurt in his eyes. He knows he's done something bad, and he's accepting the consequences. I've lost count of the amount of times he's apologised to me during our walk. 

Truth is, I've already forgiven him. Because my stupid feelings have deemed him already enough to deserve a second chance, and more chances after that. 

Dream, who's actually Clay, after deciding to reveal his true identity to me when he removed that mask all those nights ago. He saved my life, twice. Once I didn't see, but the other I witnessed with my own eyes. The second time was the most meaningful anyway. 

Saving me once, makes sense. He told me he did it on the off chance we were soulmates. But after finding out we weren't, he still stepped in. Not just in front of anyone, in from of Technoblade. The most dangerous person around, my hunter. 

There was no need for him to. Yet he followed me out, and interfered just before any real damage could be inflicted. He was worried about me, and made sure that I was safe.

Judging by the wounds on his face, I'm not the only one he's saved. Even if he lies, the scars littering him can't. They're evidence he's seen some things, saved his friend so many times. What he's telling me could be lies, but I'm convinced that's the truth. Selfless, and caring. Loyal.

I see the way he tries to hide those marks. As if he's ashamed of the way he looks, and worries people will judge him for it. No matter how many times I tell him he doesn't need to be ashamed of them, he doesn't listen. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't. There's something telling him I'm lying. 

I desperately want to tell him how wrong he is. How people look at him in awe, and not in disgust, because they admire how strong he is and how much he's been through. 

Clay has told me about a portion of his past, and the look in his eyes when he tells those stories is evident he's no liar. I've only seen his face, who knows how many more scars he has. 

There's always one he won't talk about. The nastiest looking scar, a deep gash in his forehead that he always tries to cover even without his mask on. He's always brushing his hair over it, it's clearly the mark he's most self conscious about. 

It probably holds the worst story, something he's not prepared to recall. I've not pressed for information on it, despite wanting to know so badly. We all have areas of our past we can't talk about, some of us more than others.

Or in your case, the entire damn thing.

Maybe I should tell him. Put even more of my limited and waning trust into him. Because no matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise, he's safe. 

Because I love him.

He's sweet, picking flowers wherever we go to help me learn colours. 

He's considerate, never asking for information where he knows I can't give it. 

He's caring, always looking out for me. 

He's gentle, comforting me whenever I need it without question. 

He's loyal, no matter how much I don't know about him, I know he'll always be by my side when I need him. 

He's perfect. He's pretty, with a smile so bright it makes the sun envious. He's beautiful, even with those scars he believes weigh him down. I want to tell him, tell him it all, but can't find the words to.

So I try to communicate through actions, lifting his chin to meet my eyes and tell him what I want to silently.

I love you, Clay. 

He smiles back, self consciously adjusting his hair to make sure it hides as many scars as possible. Especially the one on his forehead.

You're beautiful, you don't need to hide them. 

"You think so?" Apparently, I said the last part aloud. Swallowing my embarrassment, I make sure to finish what I seem to have started. He deserves to know, and my nerves aren't helping the situation at all.

"Yeah" I nod, locking our eyes to solidify my words. "I do. Scars are a sign of strength, not a sign of weakness." Clay looks uncomfortable, so I take his hand in hopes of comforting him. 

His right hand, which doesn't have a glove over it anymore. Now I can see the little scars over it too. Gently, I stroke over them with my thumb, holding his hand tightly. 

"Think about it. People who have scars have been through things. Maybe they got scars from a stupid accident as a child, maybe from..." I trail off. "Other things. But either way, they tell a story. You're still here, which means you've lived through whatever situation in which you got those scars."

I notice his eyes lingering over a certain spot on my jawline. The spot, where my own scar is. And ridiculously, I debate telling him that story. Clay has lost his confidence, and it'd help him to know someone else's story. It'd help me to share it too.

"This scar" I use my free hand to point to the scar. "Is from when I was younger. A boy who I thought was my best friend, turned out to be my worst enemy." 

As we walk, I tell Clay the story. Our hands remain together the entire time, each of us taking turns to comfort the other whenever they need it. It feels good to have told someone, to have someone else listen. Clay does just that, listening intently and not asking any questions.

"He shoved me to the tiles. My jaw collided with the floor first, and split open on impact. I've had the scar ever since." 

Clay nods, cringing as I describe the injury itself. "Ouch" he winces, imagining how the situation played out in his head. After a few seconds of silence, Clay speaks up again. "So that's why you're so mistrusting of everyone." 

His eyes widen as he connects some things in his head. Things I said back when we fought in the market, along with the new information. 

I nod as he pieces more snippets of information together. "That among many, many other times. Lots of different people, and different situations."

The city comes into view, and I sigh at the sight of it. As much as we need to be here, I truly hate it. "A lot of people have broken up that trust over time." 

Clay takes my other hand, stopping me from walking. "Thank you" he mumbles. "That must've been hard to talk about. It helped me, a lot." I force myself to smile, ignoring the city. "You're welcome. You've helped me too, a lot more than you probably realise."

We hug briefly before turning our attention back to the looming buildings. Clay cuts off our past conversation to go get our plan. "So I'm finding somewhere to stay, and you're going to see Darryl again?"

"Yep. It's easier if I go alone. I'll just say I wanted him to check back over the injuries he fixed up last time."

Clay breaks apart our hands, and I hate how much I want to hold his again. Intertwine our fingers, know that someone safe is beside me. "I'll meet you back at the market, alright?"

"Yep." I turn away, facing towards the North section. "Don't die" I yell back jokingly. "And don't do anything dumb. I know what you're like."

He smirks, giving me a cocky salute as he walks away. "Try not to get yourself attacked again. Three times is quite enough." 

"I'm a wanted person!"

Clay rolls his eyes. "Someone wants you? Damn, they can have you in that case. Don't even need to pay me to get rid of you."

"Hey!"

A characteristic wheeze is my response, the blonde grinning widely. "No but seriously, stay safe. I don't want to find your dead body in an alleyway somewhere."

I scoff. "See you on the other side."

"If you make it that far."

"Clay!"


	19. A Killer's Instinct

-George's POV-

My target profile feels like a weight as I enter the usual location of my target. A constant reminder that I'm here to gain information on how to murder an innocent person. Not just any innocent person, the best medic in Central City. People may think it weird he's with an elite assassin, but he sure comes in useful.

When I reach the medical booth, I'm met with a group of people. A boy I recognise as A6d, chatting to the girl from the hub. It'd only now that they're sat together I realise their soulmates bands match.

Sat on the counter beside A6d is a boy I don't recognise, sorting through some bandages. Bright blue eyes, and an outfit so mismatched it's worse than Finn's. 

Stood beside him is another boy, a green scarf wrapped tightly over his mouth. His hair is dark and I think brown, contrasting his pale skin. 

There's so many people. 

It's been so long since I've been in the company of multiple people. Passing through crowds absentmindedly doesn't count, but I don't even have to do that often. Now I'm the centre of attention, stood in the middle of a crowd make up of elite assassins and strangers.

I want Clay here with me. Now.

"What're you here for?" A familiar voice from behind me asks. I'm met with Nick, leaning against the wall casually as he watches the group crammed into the tiny shop. "Oh um-" 

The entire group turn to me, and I watch the blue-eyed boy's eyes widen in realisation. Even with my glasses on, it's not hard to distinguish who I am when I'm stood right in front of you. 

Sapnap puts up his hand, rolling his presumably green eyes. "Save it Jacob. We all know who he is anyway." All eyes are on me, watching me cautiously. I'm not sure why, I'm easily outnumbered. 

"I came here to see Darryl-" The boy in the green scarf narrows his eyes, glaring at me as if he's deciding the best way to kill me before I can escape. "I could help you instead, I'm the second medic here" the blue-eyed boy Nick called 'Jacob' cuts in.

"No" Nick overrides. "He needs him, and him specifically. His injuries are serious enough that Bad requested only he take care of them."

Bad?

A6d, who I think was referred to as Vincent, snorts. "Lucky you. Normally Bad only requests personal visits from Skeppy." 

Nick cuts in. "Yeah but that's because it's Skep. They're soulmates Vin, give them a break."

I can't help but notice how Nick becomes nervous and agitated whenever soulmates are mentioned. It's probably due to the loss of his own, who he never even got to meet. There's still hope he'll see them one day.

"He was doing that even before he knew." Vincent batts his eyelashes dramatically, using a high-pitched tone to speak. "I'll take care of that one, he has the worst injuries."

"You're never going to let him live that down, are you?" The group erupts into laughter, and I stand in the centre awkwardly.

"Please" Nick smirks. "The way Darryl watches over Zak you'd think he was made of paper." 

"No, the way Darryl makes me watch over Zak" Vincent interjects. I remember when Clay and I first saw them, and Vincent was yelling about how he always has to watch over Zak like he's his child.

The group laugh again. "God they're both such lovebirds."

"Who's the lovebirds?"

Zak walks in behind me, accompanied by the boy in the green scarf, who I hadn't realised he left sometime during the conversation. "Mega told me someone came to see Darryl."

He takes one long look at me, analysing me with the eyes of a killer. It's clear that he's used to taking in every little detail, trained to analyse a person from the second he meets them. Checking for weapons, weak spots to strike and where best to inflict the finishing blow.

Even though he's the only boy in the room shorter than me, he's by far the most intimidating. The cheery boy I saw when he was climbing that tree is hidden beneath an assassin's glare. Confident and calculating.

"Oh" Finn pipes up. "The lovebird himself. We were just talking about you and your medic boyfriend."

"Hilarious. You're not an assassin either" Zak retorts. Finn smirks. "I work in the hub, hun. That's a far more distinguished job than a mere medic. Few people get to do it, we're on the same level."

"Medic's are important, asshole, and Darryl's the best of his kind" Zak scoffs, turning his attention back to me. "George, isn't it?" He drawls, helping himself to a lollipop in the jar on the front desk. The medic's boyfriend doesn't move his glare from me, watching like I may try to run at any second. Part of me is seriously debating it.

Zak laughs at the tension in the room, a high-pitched giggle I wouldn't have expected from him. I have to remind myself he's only 20, the calculating movements looking polished enough to have been perfected over many years. No where near Techno's level, but still intimidating in his own right.

Terrifying to me. 

This is the boy who's heart I'm supposed to break. He's who I have to get around to revive my poor soulmate. This boy, seemingly the polar opposite of his own soulmate. 

I've heard around that Skeppy is actually sweet underneath his assassin's demeanour. Apparently he's lived in this town his whole life, and knows the place pretty well. Another thing to consider when working out how to best kill his soulmate.

I try to take in as much as possible about Zak. Every little detail could be vital to finding a way around him, especially given the new information. Darryl seems to want him kept in bubble wrap, despite his dangerous career. 

He must have a soft spot, a weakness of some kind. It's probably not a what, but more of a who. Zak radiates similar traits to Clay, dangerous on the outside but soft on the inside. It takes the right person the reveal the inner side of them. 

I caught a glimpse of that side when he was with Vincent. Revealing it more should get his weakness out. Once I find that, I know how to get him out of the picture when I attack Darryl. 

Note to self, keep an eye on Skeppy.

The black-haired boy is sat comfortably on the front desk, a strawberry lollipop in his mouth as he chats casually to Vincent. One eye on me the entire time. 

"So. Who's this kid and what does he want with Darryl?" Zak takes the lollipop out of his mouth, pointing with it as he addresses me. "This is George" Nick cuts in before I can answer. "He's a patient of Darryl's, and came to have his injuries checked over."

"Ah. Techno's target." Zak rests his head in one of his hands, still watching me intently with both eyes. Wide eyes, mocha-coloured and innocent. They don't match him at all. Maybe the person underneath, but not this side of Skeppy

"Yeah..." I rub my arm awkwardly, pretending to wince when I graze over any bandages. "He did request that I see him specifically."

"Oh." Zak narrows his eyes. "That's strange." Vincent nods, whispering something to Finn before speaking. "And I did mention to him that Darryl only ever gives special treatment to you-"

"Not helpful Vin" the black-haired boy glares. "Awh come on" Finn jokes. "Jealous, Zakky?"

"Don't call me Zakky, Jude." He puts extra emphasis on the last word, and that seems to keep Finn quiet. I note the glare Finn pins Zak with as he turns away, anger beneath a little too fiery to be faked. I put two and two together, realising what Zak must've meant.

Finn's name is actually Jude.

"He's at the south branch, guess I can walk you over there." Zak tightens the straps on his weapons, pulling a dagger out of a drawer beneath him and strapping it to his leg. Something about this feels off, it's like I'm being set up again.

I'm so dead if I go with him.

"Don't you have a meeting with Techno?" Nick asks casually. Zak looks up, giving Nick a weird glare. "Yeah but it's on that end of town. I can walk him there anyway."

Why is Nick helping me?

"Would you like me to stay with him?" The shorter boy's eyes widen for just a second, narrowing again shortly after. He gives Nick a nod, accompanied by a small smile. "Thanks. Let's go then."

Zak doesn't trust me alone with Darryl.

Does he know?

He hops off of the counter, waving a goodbye to each person as we leave. "Any excuse to see your boyfriend" Jacob hollers, causing the remainder of the group to laugh. "Just because yours is right next to you" Zak retorts, jabbing a finger in the direction of the boy he called 'Mega'. 

Another chorus of laughter as we leave. Now I'm accompanied by two elite assassins, one of which is my target's soulmate.

Alone.


	20. Purple Love

-George's POV-

The walk is deathly quiet, the two assassins either side of me making occasional conversation around me. They walk on either side, and I make sure to stray closer to Nick. Surrounded by two elite assassins, all alone. 

Extremely dangerous. 

Yet one of them seems to be sort of on my side, which puts me more at ease. Probably even more dangerous, Zak could strike when my guard is down.

I make sure to keep my guard up as we walk, approaching one of the corner shops on the edge of the main city. I've seen this area from the outskirts, not really taking notice of it before. 

I never thought there was anything here, but I must be wrong. If there's a medic store here run by the best medic in the city, the area must be inhabited by at least a few important people. Zak's meeting with Techno is out here, which proves my suspicions. 

It must be an important meeting to be held in a derelict building on the more abandoned side of town. Techno is most likely the richest for miles around, he can afford a fancy meeting. Yet in traditional assassin style, he hosts it in these areas. A true assassin.

Pfft, ridiculous.

We near the corner shop, Zak entering first. As soon as he sees his boyfriend, Darryl comes around from behind the desk. There's nobody else here, he must've just seen someone. "Zakky" he chirps. "You're back!"

Zak wraps his soulmate in a hug, who I notice is barely taller. Darryl is maybe the same height as me, maybe a little taller. Similar, which should make my job easier. 

When I retract my attention back from my thoughts, I notice Zak and Darryl are still together. Zak is sat on the desk, kissing Darryl like he's forgotten we're there. 

I decide to make a mental list of their weaknesses so I can write them down later. 

Weaknesses list:

Zak's weakness #1: Darryl.

Darryl's weakness #1: Zak.

Nick stands beside me, folding his arms and pretending not to care. But I can see the look in his eyes, and the way his eyes linger over the two's arms. Specifically where Zak's hoodie has fallen down, exposing the purple band around his wrist.

"Alright lovebirds, break it up." Nick claps loudly, startling both boys. "Not everyone wants to see your kissy-kissy" he scoffs. "And Zak, don't you have a meeting to go to?"

The black-haired boy shoots Nick a death glare, giving his boyfriend a hug in goodbye. Darryl plants a kiss on his forehead before letting go. They both have a deep blush on their cheeks, and I have to resist the urge to laugh.

As Zak leaves, my eyes trail back to Nick. Black soulmate band, exposed for all to see. Despite the humour he played off when Zak and Darryl were kissing, there is still hurt in his eyes. Not jealousy, but frustration. More at himself than them, he seems annoyed that his own soulmate isn't here to kiss him.

"Sorry about that" Darryl cringes, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I've not seen Zak in a while, he's been very busy."

"It's fine, Dar." Nick sits in one of the wooden stools, folding his arms casually. "I know what you two are like. Anyone would think you hadn't seen each other in years."

Darryl shakes his head with a smile, pulling various items out of cabinets and drawers. "I'm just worried about him. You never know when it'll be your last time to see them. Especially after everything he's been through."

I remain quiet, hoping he'll elaborate. Nick thankful remains silent, so Darryl continues. "I've noticed you're scared of Zak, George." I flinch, worried that it's so obvious even Darryl picked up on it.

"Trust me" he laughs. "Zak may act like a tough cookie, but he's soft on the inside. He's just seen some nasty things and had some bad experiences." 

I noticed that Zak, like Clay, has some scars on his face. Presumably they're from these 'nasty things' and 'everything he's been through'.

Darryl's weakness #2: He's extremely chatty. Probably too chatty.

Zak's weakness #2: He's seen some bad things, and has the scars to prove it.

There's also a scar on Darryl's face. Across his cheek, quite close to his eyes, presumably from a dagger. Dangerously close, probably a near-escape.

"So, what brings you here?" He leans on the desk, smiling brightly at me. Invitingly, with the gentleness and comfort of a talented medic. "Just my injuries again." I point to my forehead, where a bandage which is conveniently blood soaked is wrapped loosely around my head.

"Oh!" His eyes trail up to my head. "Makes sense." 

When the conversation ends, I calculate how to slyly rekindle it. I didn't come here for medical attention, I came here for information. 

About Darryl and apparently Zak too, or even Techno. Although I think I'm looking in the wrong place for that. Maybe I should've followed Zak to his meeting.

"Are there any other people like you?" I ask casually, looking anywhere except at the medic. Nick is staring at the floor, but I can tell he's paying attention. I'm still not sure on his intentions, or how much I can trust him.

Clay is safe, that's all I know. I don't even know that for certain, but it seems to be set in my head that he is. My mind made that decision for me when it decided to fall in love with him instead of my soulmate.

Stupid soulmates, stupid system...

"What do you mean?" The medic's tone is casual, paying little attention to our conversation. His focus remains on the wounds he's treating, which could be helpful for me. Who knows how much information I can get him to spill by accident.

Except Nick is here, and will probably intervene. I'm surprised Darryl isn't more suspicious, especially considering how unsure his soulmate is around me. Zak seems to be like that with all strangers. I'd argue it's an assassin's trait, yet Nick was strangely friendly after realising who I was. 

Although he did attack me in an alleyway.

Distrusting, or mistrusting. The line between the two is thin, but it's clear who remains on each side. To not trust anyone is better than to trust the wrong people. Nick seems to have other ideas, and always brings up how distrusting I am whenever we cross paths.

I've lost count of how many times he's told me to put more trust in people. But trust is dangerous, especially when given to dangerous people. His argument is that I should be more trusting of people now that I'm certain of who my hunter is. 

'It's not like every person is going to backstab you, George. You just have to be careful.'

Words from an elite assassin, who fears none other than those of their own group above them in power. Like Techno. Nick doesn't have to worry about everyone trying to kill him.

I have to be wary of everyone. Anyone could try to kidnap me and sell me to Techno. Or even kill me on the spot to 'prove their worth' to him. 

I'm a wanted person, not publicly yet, but I could be tomorrow. Any day Techno gets a little fed up, and decides to have his wannabes capture me for him.

What confuses me, is Dream is too. He's wanted by the entire group of elite assassins, publicly. There's a bounty on his head, which grows bigger every day. People will be after him, assassin groups formed specifically to take him down. 

Yet he acts so casual about it. Cautious, but not wary. There's still a cocky smile on his face wherever he goes, he's not afraid to wander Central City with an iconic mask as his disguise. 

The mask does him no favours, it's well-known. So well-known that Nick attacked me just for wearing it, knowing it wasn't him. 

People may know that I'm associated with Dream. I hadn't even thought about that. All it would take is Nick telling his superiors, and there'd be even more pressure on me. More on Dream. He's in so much more danger than I'd initially thought. It's only now I've realised.

I really hope he's ok.

It's stupid. Stupid that a few weeks ago, I wouldn't let anyone near me. Now I but my trust in a pretty blonde boy, who happens to be the most wanted person in Central City. Close only on the wanted list to me. 

And somehow, he's gained my trust. Trust I didn't think I had, and am still questioning now. Somehow, he can tear down the walls I've built up around myself for years with merely one of those cocky smiles. 

Not only do I trust him, I'm worried about him. I care about him, would care if something happened to him. I love him. He's changed me so much that I've managed to fall in love with him.

Stupid. Ridiculous. But it drives me insane not knowing that he's safe. I want him to be safe, I want him by my side so that I know he's okay.

Please be ok.


	21. Devotions

-George's POV- 

After realising I've zoned out for probably the third time today, I force my attention back to the medic before me. He's watching me in confusion. Confusion, not suspicion. Probably because he asked me a question who knows how long ago and I completely zoned out.

"Oh. I mean... are there any other people who are with assassins that aren't an assassin themselves?" Darryl sighs, and I notice Nick cringes. The assassin tries to brush it off, but I catch the warning look in his eyes.

"Not that I know of" Darryl responds quietly. "Other than Finn, but his job is just as prestigious. Not like a feeble market medic..." he trails off, suddenly disgusted by the bandages in his hands. 

Nick cuts in. "Darryl, your job is extremely important. You're the best medic in the entire city, which is even more impressive. So many people would be dead without you."

"So many people would have their soulmates if it wasn't for me saving their targets and hunters" he retaliates bitterly.

"But you have saved so many people's soulmates!" I add, suddenly feeling worse for the medic. "There's so many people who owe their life to you."

"Zak included" Nick chimes in. "If you weren't as skilled as you are, he'd be dead. Several times over." Nick pauses suddenly, debating if he should elaborate. "Like that night a while back."

So there's a specific incident where Zak almost died, but Darryl saved him. From a while ago, judging by Sapnap's description.

"True" Darryl mutters. He doesn't look convinced, but his sad eyes light up a little at the mention of his boyfriend's name.

"Exactly. No matter your profession, Zak loves you." I giggle, remembering their first interaction when we entered the shop. "That much was obvious when we got here." Darryl blushes deeply, remembering the incident.

"I'm still trying to forget that!" Nick hollers in our direction. "If you have some bleach for my eyes I'd appreciate that too."

"Quiet, you muffin" Darryl smirks to the assassin. His tone becomes softer when his eyes trail over Nick's wrist. "You'll have your soulmate one day, I promise." He turns to me with a smile. "And so will George! I bet they're out there somewhere, waiting for you."

True, but I have to kill you to get them back.

Maybe I don't want them back. As selfish and ridiculous as it seems, maybe I don't care that they're dead. Because the boy I want is alive, in this very city. 

He's got a soulmate of his own. I can't have him.

"Thanks" I smile back, deciding to keep the information about my soulmate a secret. I'm so glad he didn't need to check my wrists.

Suddenly the door flies open, a boy with hair so bright it has to be ginger rushing in. He carries a girl in his arms, blood pouring from her head. Behind them stands another boy, eyes wide with fear. 

"You're the head medic in the city right?" The ginger yells frantically to Darryl. "Help her!" He lays the girl down on the front desk, and I immediately move out of the way. 

The room fills with screaming, Darryl desperately trying to calm down the ginger boy. I notice in the commotion that the ginger boy and the unconscious girl have matching bands on their wrists. The same shade of blue to me, presumably a different colour to them. Definitely soulmates.

Nick pulls me away from the centre of the room, dragging me over to two seats next to the front windows of the shop. We each sit on one of the high stools, and I can't help but swirl the chair side-to-side anxiously.

"See that boy?" Nick whispers to me, jabbing a finger in the direction of the other boy. He has his back to us, stood behind the two soulmates. A little taller than me, a thick mess of dark hair covering his head. I nod to Nick, watching the boy intently.

"Notice anything about him?" Nick scoffs at himself, changing his words. "Well, not him. But rather who is with him?" My eyes flicker back to the ginger, who's still yelling at a frantically-working Darryl.

"The ginger boy?" Nick shakes his head. "No, the other person. There's a fourth person with them." It's then that I notice something about the dark-haired boy. He's talking to thin air, as if there's someone beside him.

"Why does he keep talking like there's someone there?" I ask to Nick quietly, who's smirking at me. "That boy is talking to his soulmate."

My eyes widen, looking from Nick's amused face back to the boy, who's still talking to the air. "Like a ghost?" 

"Sort of. That boy's soulmate is stood next to him, we just can't see them. There's another special feature to the soulmate system of this world."

He's talking to a ghost?!

"If you meet your soulmate before they die, you can communicate with them after they've died as long as there's a chance you can revive them. I'd bet that that boy is talking to his dead soulmate, and they're stood right beside him."

"But... why?" I ask, mouth hanging open. I'm extremely thankful everyone besides Nick is facing away, as I can't hide my shock.

"They're meant to help them. They can interact with the human world normally, yet remain invisible. Anything they touch disappears, and reappears once they put the item down."

"So why can't you see your soulmate?" I ask in wonder, hoping that the mention of his soulmate won't upset him. 

"You have to have realised they're your soulmate before they die. Once you touch and realise your soulmates, it counts. Even if you meet, it doesn't count until you touch."

Nick sighs sadly, looking at the floor. "That's why I don't have my soulmate with me. I never met them."

"Sorry" I mumble, surprising myself with the sudden sympathy. "So why do people care so much about reviving their soulmates when they can just exist like a ghost instead?"

"Because there's things they can't do. They can't be heard by anyone that isn't their soulmate, so they can't talk to anyone besides them. They also are said to see the world... differently."

"What do you mean 'differently'?"

"It varies from person-to-person apparently. Some see the world like you do, colourblind."

"How did you-"

Nick smirks. "Anyway, some see it like the colourblind. For some it's entirely grayscale. Some people can't see others entirely, and some can't even see their own family."

I cringe, imagining how bad it must be to not even be able to recognise your own relatives.

"The only certainty is their soulmate. They may not see them normally, but they can still see their soulmates."

"So you effectively become a ghost until you're revived?" I ask, trying to absorb as much information as possible. If Techno's soulmate is like this, I have another problem entirely.

"Yep. Although people call them Devotions. Something about loyalty to your lover even after you're dead and all that mushy shit."

"You're clearly the romantic type."

"Well, when your soulmate has been dead for weeks and you see everyone else happily with theirs, you start to hate it." 

I imagine how Nick must feel, surrounded by so many couples yet all alone. He witnesses people like Zak and Darryl being happy together everyday, without the one he's destined to love.

"Makes sense. I understand that feeling too."

"I don't think you do." He glances at the sun outside, realising it's nearing nightfall. "You should leave. I can walk you back to the markets if you'd like."

I'm supposed to be meeting Clay there just before nightfall. "Yes, that'd be great. Thank you."

"Alright." Nick stands, waving a goodbye to Darryl before leaving. We head back in the direction of the market, and I'm strangely less nervous with just Nick than I was when both Nick and Zak were here earlier.

"Sapnap?"

"You can call me Nick, but yes?"

"Okay Nick" I correct. "Why do you keep helping me? I ask you this every time we meet, and I get some stupid and cryptic answer every time."

"It's almost as if I'm being cryptic on purpose" he laughs to the darkening sky. I don't appreciate his sarcasm.

"Whatever. But why?"

He sighs, smirking at me. His eyes trail to my covered wrist, then back up to my face. "I've told you before and I'll tell you a million more times, idiot."

We stop by the market entrance, and Nick waves a goodbye as he starts walking away.

"I'm not doing it for your benefit, I'm doing it for his."

"That makes literally no sense!" I yell back. "Who's benefit, Dream's?"

"Okay, maybe this could be a little for your benefit too. I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

He leans against a lamppost, picking it his nails absentmindedly as he spills information like it's nothing. "Haven't you ever wondered why you're still alive when your hunter is the most powerful assassin in the city?!"

His point makes sense. Surely I should've been dead some time ago, it is Techno after all. "Makes sense. What's your point?" 

"My point is Devotions are extremely important to you." He huffs dramatically, as if he's annoyed with me. "There's a reason you've lived for this long. Techno had his soulmate."

Had.

Nick rolls his eyes, slowly heading away from me. "Techno is even more dangerous than before. He's only started hunting you now for the same reason everyone else hunts their target."

"Techno has a Devotion. His soulmate is dead, and he wants them back." Nick shoots me an accusing glare. "Even Techno cares about his soulmate." 

For some reason, Nick always turns so cold whenever he gives me information. One minute he's smiling, the next he's glaring at me. He spits his final sentence as he turns a corner, stopping me from asking any more questions after he speaks.

"Care a little more about yours."

And with that, he leaves.


	22. New Home

-??? POV [same person as Chapter 16]-

The first thing I see is him. Not my sunshine, but rather who's with him. Another person who looks to be grey by this weird world, but I'd recognise him anywhere.

A boy I recognise walks beside my sunshine, unaware that I'm here. Some part of me thinks he already knows, but I'm not entirely sure. I have no idea how much information he has, or what he knows. Or how much my sunshine knows. Maybe he's caught on, and I'm not hiding it as well as I thought I was.

His own mind is playing tricks on him. The world was against him from the start, and the same issue he's dealt with his entire life has only brought more problems. Problems I tried to avoid. I tried, I swear I did. But he didn't understand.

It's not that he didn't, he couldn't. I didn't know then, but I know now. You'd think I'd hate him after what he's done. But I can't hate him. He doesn't understand that, but I do.

There's a reason I've always stuck by his side. There's a reason I won't leave him. There's a reason I tried to stop him. If he knew, he'd hate me. But that's not my main concern. He'd hate himself, and that's what's worse. He can get rid of me, never see me ever again, but he can't get rid of himself. He'd hate himself. Forever.

I can't hate you, sunshine. 

You don't get it yet. Maybe you never will in your world.

But in mine, you'd understand.

And one day, you'll be here with me.

This wasn't how it was supposedly go. We were supposed to have a better ending. I'm sorry that the world was cruel to you. 

I thought it was your fault. 

Turns out I was wrong.

One day, you'll understand. 

You could understand now, I could explain it to you. It'd be simple really, you'd get it.

You're smart.

It's the consequences of telling you. I'm convinced I'd lose you. You'd hate me, and you'd hate yourself even more. That's not fair.

It isn't your fault.

Wasn't your fault.

Wasn't your fault then, and it isn't now. It never was.

You'd think I'd blame you.

But I don't.

I never will.

Because I love you, sunshine.

And one day, you'll hear those words from me. 

One day, we'll be together.

One day, you'll understand.

~~~

-George's POV-

Clay doesn't appear for a while after Nick leaves, allowing me to spend some time pondering my own thoughts. Everything he's said, the rush of information that seems to get dumped on me every time Nick steps in. 

It's like the information is an actual pile, full of large things and miniature pieces. Then Sapnap comes along, throws some more on to the pile, and leaves it there until he decides to throw on some more. 

And I don't understand any of it.

What I do know, is Techno is even more dangerous than I thought. He has one of these 'Devotions', someone only he can see helping him. His soulmate is dead. 

So that's why I've lived the past five and a half years in peace. His soulmate was alive. My impending doom has just been prolonged a little longer. 

Techno will be the death of me, I've accepted that much. Sooner or later, he wins. He's too powerful, nobody can take him down.

Although, Dream seems to think he can. The name they gave him to suggest as such is ridiculous. It's almost comical, putting faith in the new member to kill the leader. 

Now Techno is driven with the promise of reviving his soulmate. That's the cost. My death, for the revival of his soulmate. A life for a life.

So when did Techno's soulmate die?

Presumably a few weeks ago. Around the same time I found Dream, as he attacked the day I met Dream. If he hasn't attacked me, would I have still met Dream? Probably, but I would've avoided him. Like I have with everyone else over the years.

Maybe Nick is right. Letting someone in is probably going to help me, and Clay seems to be the right person. He's trying, I can tell. 

It'll help me.

At least, that's what I tell myself repeatedly until Clay arrives. He seems desperate to get out of the open, waving at me from the market entrance instead of daring to come inside. 

"So did you find a place?" I ask, hoping that there's somewhere less filled with assassins. The market is overflowing with them, and it feels like a death trap. At least I had the comfort that Techno wasn't among them this time.

"Yep" Dream smiles, taking my hand and pulling me towards one of the streets. Thankfully it's away from most alleyways, the paths we take seem to be more wide and open. 

On the East side of the city, far away from the assassin's meet-up points like where Skeppy went to meet Techno.

As we're walking, I make sure to note each alleyway we pass carefully. Looking for the widest streets, the largest amount of people to hide amongst. I also notice the buildings here are pretty tall. Not particularly sturdy in some places, but they seem to improve on different streets. 

The overall condition of the buildings still decreases dramatically the further out of the main centre Clay takes us. 

Probably because the buildings in the centre are either public buildings or home to the richest of assassins. People powerful enough that they don't have to cower in derelict buildings on the outskirts.

"There." Clay suddenly stops, pointing to what looks like an apartment building. On the second floor, not too far up from the ground, but far enough it's out of reach of people passing below. The street we've stopped on is strangely neat, the buildings in pretty good condition.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I ask nervously as Clay drags me further towards the apartment. "What if it's owned by an assassin?"

He squeezes my hand in reassurance, and I hold on tighter. It's comforting to walk the streets with his hand in mine. Just a little safer.

"Relax, Georgie. Technically, I own this apartment." He takes us into a small alleyway, running his hand along the brick wall as if looking for something. I hear a click as a slot opens in the wall, a ladder pulling out from the top and stretching down to us on the bottom.

My mouth hangs open slightly as I watch the ladder set itself up. Clay smirks at me, that dumb sarcastic smile plastered across his face. 

"Pretty cool huh? You forget I was an elite assassin for a while. This is the place I was given." He steps away from the ladder, bowing dramatically. "Ladies first."

I roll my eyes, shoving him aside as I climb the rusting ladder. It's evident the building hasn't been used in a while, or they've found another way up, as the ladder is coated in a thin layer of dust. 

"Are you sure they won't have given it to anyone else?" I yell down to Clay, who's stood directly below the ladder, eyes focused intently on me like he's expecting me to fall any second. 

I pull myself up to the wooden ledge, watching Clay climb the ladder after me. It's a balcony, the door to the apartment just behind me. 

You wouldn't realise there was actually a door unless you looked closely, as it's made to look like the wall. The balcony just looks like the top of the apartment below.

"Pretty cool" I smile, a little more confident that we're safe here. "See? I know what I'm doing" Clay replies, opening the door and leading me inside.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Surprisingly, the apartment isn't that large. I'd expected more from an assassin's place, especially and elite assassin. 

The building does look to be designed more as a temporary outpost. A small living room, along with an oven and a fridge in the supposed kitchen. Winding stairs in the corner of the room leading to the second floor, which I presume must have the bedrooms in it.

"I didn't stay here for long." Clay walks over to a cupboard, pulling it open to find theres nothing left inside. "And I'm not surprised to find this place has been checked over after I left."

"That's probably what to expect when you're a wanted person" I remark, checking a couple more cupboards to find them all empty. 

Not a trace of any supplies left behind, and no food. I got sidetracked in the market and didn't get any more food, so I'll have to make another trip there tomorrow.

Upstairs isn't too much smaller. There's one bedroom, with two single beds crammed in so close together they're almost touching.

Almost, but not quite. 

There's also a bathroom, which I'm extremely thankful for. It's been far too long since I've last showered.

"No blankets?!" Clay is violently swinging open every cupboard in sight, appalled that there's nothing more than a thin bedsheet on each bed. "I left blankets here. They took them" he pouts, sitting on the bed I presume used to be his and huffing childishly.

I can't help but laugh. "The audacity." Clay wraps his arms around himself, as if giving himself a hug. It's probably an attempt to stay warm, but I doubt it's working. 

"Guess you'll just have to sleep with me" he says casually, as if that's totally normal. It takes me a couple seconds to register that I heard him correctly. "Wh-"

Clay cuts me off. "Don't give me the 'that's weird' crap when you've practically sat in my lap and cried for a half hour." 

He does have a point.

"Fine." Reluctantly, I sit beside him on his bed. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me so we're laying down. I'm half on top of him, so glad that he can't see my face. 

"This isn't at all comfortable" I mumble, folding my arms. Clay wheezes, shoving me off of him and sending me crashing to the floor. There's blood on my chin, something bleeding from the impact with splintered wood.

Something doesn't feel right.


	23. Fights And Frights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING.   
> This chapter contains a panic attack at the very beginning. If you wish not to read it, please skip to the ‘———‘ line marked.   
> You can read the rest of the chapter fine.

George's POV-

He throws me aside with little care, my jaw the first thing to collide with the floor. Blood splatters the white tiles, staining them pink. Maybe it's not pink, I don't know.

"Shame you can't be normal." Charlie stands over me, laughing as I try to stand. 

My head is swirling, and I can't see straight. It's not the impact itself, it's the damage done afterwards. The already small walls close in further, suffocating me. I'm stuck here with Charlie. I'm stuck.

Please please please!

I instinctively throw my hand up to cover my face, feeling the blood coat my hand. Charlie moves towards me, so I kick him away. He's yelling, and I can't tell what. But it'll only get worse. He's only going to hurt me more.

Go away. Go away. Go away.

Leave me alone.

"Please go away" I beg, scrunching my eyes shut and curling my legs into my chest. More yelling. Head spinning, can't see straight. 

The bathrooms are a blur, the tiles turning pink with my blood. I scrunch my eyes closed tighter, but it's still there. He's still there, I can hear his footsteps. He's not saying a word, and the silence is so much worse.

Please don't hurt me.

Leave me alone.

Go away.

I can't do this again.

No no no no no.

"Please don't hurt me Charlie!" I beg, pulling my knees closer into my chest. Pure silence, until a confused voice pierced it. 

"George, who's Charlie?"

——————————————————————————

I force my eyes open, realising I'm not in the bathrooms. My face is definitely still bleeding, but I'm in a bedroom. On the floor, curled up into a ball. 

The person stood before me isn't Charlie, it's Clay. His green eyes are wide, a look of horror on his face. Upon realising I've stopped yelling, he crouched beside me. Instinctively I shuffle away, backing up against the bed. He asks the same question again, this time quieter.

"George, who's Charlie?"

His tone isn't angry. It's sad, regretful. He seems to have realised he's done something wrong. Clay doesn't move any closer, but sits on the floor where I moved away from moments before. He extends a hand towards me, reaching for my own.

"C-can I?" he mumbles, regret in his eyes. He knows he's done something wrong, he just doesn't know what. I sigh, looking at his hand with a distant gaze before forcing myself to nod.

Cautiously he moves a little closer, taking one of my hands in his. He caresses the back of my hand with his thumb, slow and gentle motions. After I calm down a little more, he does the same with the other hand.

"You don't have to answer me if you don't want to" he mumbles, unable to meet my eyes. I remember telling him about Charlie before, but I never mentioned his name. 

"You know that boy who shoved me to the floor back when-..."

Clays eyes widen, and he brings both hands away to clasp them over his mouth. Realisation must set in as he looks from my bleeding face to the floor.

"He's the boy who-" Clay cuts himself off. "And I just- and you thought-" 

"I thought you were Charlie. You shoved me onto the floor, and I cut my face while you laughed. It made me panic, and I thought it was him. That's what he did." I drop my gaze to my lap, realising how stupid it sounds. "I'm sorry."

A thumb is pressed to my chin, lifting it up until I'm at eye-level with Clay. He brushes away the blood on my cheek, which is next to nothing anyway. I panicked over something so small. 

"Don't ever apologise for that" he mumbles seriously. "It wasn't your fault. I should've been more considerate. I'm sorry." 

My shivering body forces to throw me back into that dark place. Breathing still ragged, not entirely convinced it's not... him. It's Clay, and he's safe. 

How can I confuse the best and worst person?

Despite the voice in the back of my head telling me not to, I edge closer to Clay, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and leaning against his chest. He pulls me into his lap, removing my glasses incase they're crushed by our hug. 

One of his hands runs through my hair softly, calming me down. He holds me close with the other, reposition me so that my head is over his heart. 

The dull thrum of his heartbeat rings in my ears, which is a little faster than it should be. My own is racing, and that's not just from the panic attack. 

No matter how much I try to distract myself, all I can see is the splintered floor around us. It reminds me of what happened, reminds me of that monster.

"Would it help if we weren't on the floor?" Clay suggests. I nod, already preparing my shaking limbs to attempt to stand. But I don't have to, as I'm picked up seconds later by Clay. I wrap my legs around his waist for support, letting him carry me back towards his bed.

Is this normal?

Probably not.

My heart is melting under the pressure of the butterflies in my chest, my stupid crush overpowering. No matter how much I try to suffocate it, it's still there. I have a mission, and I don't need to be distracted from it. Not by love, and especially not by Clay.

I'm not meant to love him.

Oh but I do.

I don't know why, but I do.

Clay sets me down on his bed, laying back and patting the bed beside him. I curl up next to him, resting my head back on his chest. He runs his hands back through my hair, curling little strands around his fingers. 

"Feeling better?" he asks quietly, as if nervous of the answer. 

"A lot" I reply, closing my eyes and enjoying the moment. I've calmed down now, but I'm not willing to give up his comfort. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I caused this mess."

"But you didn't know" I mumble, becoming more sleepy with every passing minute. "I know you wouldn't have done it if you'd have known. So I forgive you."

Clay yawns beside me, stretching his arms out above his head. I pout as he removes his hand from my hair to do so, and he giggles once he notices. "You enjoying that?" he laughs.

A blush creeps across my face, so I bury it back in his chest. "Maybe" I giggle, embarrassed by my stupid self.

"That's alright. Don't be embarrassed." He returns his hand to my hair, sighing before presumably closing his eyes.

"I'm enjoying it too."

~~~

Sometime about midday, I wake up to find sunlight streaming through the thin curtains. Clay is still asleep, both arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I let the blush on my face consume me, feeling my own heart pounding. He's not awake yet, I don't have to hide it.

This feels so nice...

As if mocking me, my eyes trail back to his wrists. His soulmate band is completely exposed, it's stupid yellow substitute that I'm forced to see mocking me. I can't even se the colour of his soulmate band.

Another bad experience comes to mind, but I shove it back into the dark corner of my head. Lock it in there, and throw away the key. It's not important. I've moved on, and I'm better than that now. Now I have Clay, who can help me with colours. 

Where is his soulmate?

Would they be ok with this?

Of course not...

Suddenly I feel the strong urge to move, and I attempt to wriggle out of his grip. Clay grabs hold of my wrists in his sleep, pulling me closer. I sigh, rolling my eyes as Clay pulls me so close I'm almost on top of him. I'm effectively his teddy bear.

"Clay" I poke him in the ribs, causing him to jump. "Wake up, Dreamy. We need to go back to the markets."

Where did that come from?

"What did you just call me?"

Oh.

"N-nothing" I mumble, knowing it only looks even worse now. "But get up. I'm hungry."

"Then get something to eat."

I sigh again, this time more dramatically. "There's no food, idiot. That's why we need to go to the markets."

Clay slowly sits up, wiping the sleep from his eyes and stretching. I shuffle aside awkwardly to avoid being punched on accident. "Fine" he grumbles, looking like he'd prefer to lay in bed all day.

If I could lay there like we did yesterday, I'd happily stay in bed all day too.

"We're leaving in ten minutes."

"You can't time that. There's no clocks in here."

I smirk, getting up to double check the items in my bag. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi-"

"You aren't seriously going to count-"

"Three Mississippi-"

~~~

As soon as we enter the market, I realise something is off. Most of the stalls at the front are empty, even the vendors themselves seem to have disappeared. As we venture further into the underground market, I quickly realise why.

Yelling from the North end, no voices I can recognise. The fight seems pretty large, there's a crowd gathered in a large semicircle around the stage.

"Techno isn't here! He can't save you this time."

The crowd are cheering, seemingly amused by whatever is going on. It puts me a little more at ease to know Techno isn't anywhere in sight. Despite that knowledge, I adjust my glasses to make sure they obscure as much of my face as possible. Clay grabs my hand, pulling me away. 

"We shouldn't go over there, it's not-"

A pained yell suddenly echoes through the crowd, a voice I recognise. Clay does too, immediately facing back towards the fight with worried eyes. 

"Nick-" he breathes, stepping up onto a table to get a better view. He must spot someone specifically, as his teeth show in a snarl, resting over a certain space on the stage. "George I need to help them."

"You're crazy. Why-"

"It's Nick, George. I don't care what happened with us, I still care about him. Plus you don't understand who that is-"

"Who is it?"

I follow Clay through the crowd, refusing to let him out of my sight. When we reach the front, I'm able to see the entire scene properly.

Nick is laying in the corner, surrounded by some more elite assassins. Opposite them is a group of assassins, covered in black cloaks. Presumably the leader of their group steps forward, shoving one of the elite assassins I don't recognise into a wall.

"Who are you" the elite assassin spits. "And what do you want."

"Names Illumina" the cloaked assassin drawls. He draws his blade, a long sword with a bloody end.

"And I'm here for my target."


	24. Saviours

-George's POV-

The crowd cheers, only entertained by the fight that's about to unfold. Nick's eyes widen as his companion helps him up, only for him to be knocked back down by Illumina.

"You heard me, I'm here for my target. Isn't that right, Nick?" 

Sapnap ducks as a sword is swung at his neck, thrashing out his legs from his position on the floor. One connects with Illumina's stomach, knocking him a few feet away. The cloaked assassins close in on both sides, blocking off the few exits that weren't already blocked by the crowd. 

More elite assassins suddenly pile in, Vincent charging down the steps to attack one of the cloaked figures. He draws his long twin blades, scraping them across the floor menacingly. "You dare mess with the elite assassins?" he spits angrily, foreign accent thick with anger. 

Nervously I grab Clay's arm, pull in g him sit there back into the crowd. Nick seems to notice, catching my eyes briefly. He mouths something while discretely pointing behind me. Something like 'get the fuck out of here.'

The boy I recognise as Jacob interferes, clashing swords with another of the opposition. His soulmate is quick to join him, pulling his own sword free of its' scabbard. The fight is currently five against eight, the elite assassins outnumbered.

Clay tries to escape from my grip, pulling away when he thinks I'm not paying attention to him. "Don't interfere you idiot!" I whisper to him, refraining from using either of his names in front of a large crowd.

"I need to help Sapnap!" he yells, watching in horror as his best friend is thrown against the wall again. Blood begins to pour from the back of Nick's head, and he tightens the white bandana around it in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Swords clash, daggers thrown that barely miss the crowd, who only gasp and cheer in anticipation as the fight unfolds before them. It disgusts me that people will stand by and watch this, as if it's entertainment. Possibly deadly fights aren't uncommon, especially not in central city.

The cloaked assassins corner Nick, Vincent and Jacob pushed aside as Illumina nears his target. Techno is nowhere to be seen. 

"Guess this'll be your end" Illumina drawls, dragging his blade across the concrete floor with a deathly screech. Nick is so pale from blood loss it's a wonder he's not dead already. He desperately tries to scramble away, only to be blocked on all sides. 

Clay suddenly pulls free of my grasp, tackling Illumina to the ground. There's a sickening crunch as the cloaked assassin's head hits the concrete, dazing him for a few seconds. Nick wastes no time in scrambling away, eyes wide as he watches Clay pin Illumina to the ground. 

"You have one of them?!" Illumina screeches, throwing Clay off of him. As soon as he hits the floor, Clay is back on his feet. 

I've never seen him fight before, but he sure does live up to his claims. He draws the blade across his back, also carrying the little throwing knife in his other hand. There's a small stream of blood streaming from his cheek, but he seems otherwise unharmed.

I scramble over to Nick, pushing him in the direction of the nearest staircase. "You need to leave, now!" I whisper-yell into his ear after he doesn't move away. "What just- is that-" he splutters, not quite believing what he's witnessing. He's probably surprised he's still alive.

"Not the time to panic. Are you an assassin or not?" I spit. He nods menacingly as Clay attacks Illumina again, Jacob and Mega assisting him. 

"I am" Nick snarls with a smirk. "An elite assassin. And elite assassins don't run from a fight." He tightens his bandana before lunging at the nearest hooded figure, digging his shining blade into their arm. The floor quickly coats with more blood, both from ally and enemy.

I can't fight!

What do I do?

Nervously I watch Clay fight, pivoting to dodge a blade that very narrowly misses his stomach. Despite their eccentric claims, the cloaked assassins have been pretty awful at hitting Clay. Their aim is near perfect for everyone else, it's him they have difficulty hitting.

Vincent yells for backup from the stairs, backing up the steps as he tends off two of the figures with his long twin blades. Both of which are coated in blood, the cloaked of the assassins he's fighting stained the same colour.

Darryl appears at the top of the staircase, running down the stage to help pull Vincent aside. "I hear Nick is badly injured. Where is he?!" the medic yells, helping Vincent to his feet. 

Vincent points vaguely in Nick's direction before running back into the fight, assisting Jacob. However the assassins don't turn away, instead focusing their attacks on Darryl.

Is my target going to die?

Darryl quickly realised what's going on, backing up the steps. I'm unsure as to whether he carries a weapon, as he doesn't pull one out. I fumble with the strap of my dagger, unsure whether or not to interfere.

My decision is made for me when Zak appears, swinging his axe angrily in the direction of the nearest enemy. He stands in front of his soulmate, pushing him away from the fight. The other cloaked figure manages to strike his arm, but not fatally.

"You idiot" Zak breathes, wiping the blood from his face. The enemy he first struck lays motionless at the bottom of the stage, gasps and shrieks emitting from the crowd as they take in the dead body. 

"You-" Darryl splutters, trying to get in front of Zak. He fails, Zak shoving him back towards the top of the steps. "Wait here. I'll get Nick." 

There's a fucking dead body...

Zak just killed someone.

Clay is no longer fighting Illumina, instead fending of two other cloaked assassins. He spins and slices upwards, digging his throwing knife into the chin of one of the attackers. I wince watching it happen, distantly reminded of Charlie. 

Watching Clay fight makes it hard to breathe. I'm terrified for him, despite knowing he's got the situation under control. I could interfere, but I'd only get in the way. It's mesmerising to watch him fight, but my stomach turns over with every blade sent in his direction. 

"Zak!" Clay suddenly screams, looking away from his opponent long enough for them to land another blow. Zak doesn't move an inch, still fighting an assassin of his own while keeping an eye on Darryl.

I turn in the direction Clay is facing, only to realise why he's yelling. Illumina has broke free from the fight, cornering his target once more. 

Nick is backed against the wall, blood pouring from multiple injuries into his eyes. His sword lays a few feet away, leaving the elite assassin completely unarmed. 

Everyone else is occupied. There's nobody left free to help Nick, and he can't save himself this time. He's defenceless, Illumina about to strike the fatal blow,

I need to do something!

I can't do something. I'll only get in the way.

Get in the way...

I hastily pull out my sword, fumbling with the strap on my scabbard. Nick ducks another blow, trying to edge away from his hunter. Illumina barely misses, digging his sword into the wall no more than an inch from Nick's throat. 

Why am I doing this? 

He's an elite assassin! Why am I helping him? 

Mind my own business, that's my principle. Then you don't get into danger as often. It's safer that way.

Why am I doing this?

Despite my onrush of thoughts, I manage to reach Nick just in time. I get between him and Illumina, holding my sword out in front of me in hopes it'll force him to back off.

I can't kill someone!

A rush of pain erupts from my collarbone as I'm struck with the blow that would've killed Nick. Barely missing my own throat, digging instead from my collarbone to my shoulder. 

The gash starts pouring blood and I scream, jabbing my sword before me blindly. It somehow works, knocking Illumina away as my sword plummets into his arm. 

His scream echoes my own as he's forced to back away, only to be tackled to the floor by the elite assassins who were coming to assist Nick. They wouldn't have made it in time.

The crowd stares at me with wide eyes as the fight ends, the opposition all too wounded to continue. Or dead, as the one body still remains lifeless on the floor. Darryl rushes towards me, leading me towards the medic's shop.

Nick rushes to me, walking beside me with some assistance from Zak. "Why did you do that?" he shrieks, most likely in disbelief he's miraculously still alive. 

Why did I do that?

Because of Clay. You mean too much to Clay for me to let you die. 

I saved you for him.

Either by blood loss or a rush of confidence, I find myself smirking at Nick deliriously. "I didn't do it for your benefit, I did it for his." I quote his own words he seems to think so important to repeat back to him, laughing as his mouth hangs open.

The medic's shop is unsurprisingly full, Darryl looking around with wary eyes as he takes in the amount of injured people needing his attention. Most not urgently, Nick seems to be the worst injured.

Him, assisted by Zak follow us in, Jacob and Mega following close behind. "You aren't elite assassins" I comment, remembering that both Mega and Jacob are medics.

"No, we aren't. But our friends needed our help, and we can fight." Mega nods in agreement before disappearing to help some of the injured crowding the shop front. 

Darryl leads both Nick and I into the back room, telling me to lay down on one bed and Nick on the other. It's a small room, but it functions as a makeshift hospital. There's a faded curtain between the two beds, separating the room into two halves. Shelves upon shelves overflowing with medical supplies, most bandage rolls, nothing of large value out in the open.

Zak assists Nick to his bed, Jacob deciding to help him as Darryl helps me. The medic pulls open a few drawers, eyebrows knitted as he observes the wound. The bleeding is slowly stopping, no longer pouring at an alarming rate. But the mess it's created during the journey here is at least a little concerning.

One scene fades into another as everything blurs, people walking in and out with more yelling than my pounding head can take. Visions distorted, from blood loss or slowly fading consciousness or maybe something else.

My head is alive and buzzing with thoughts, still trying to process what actually happened. I could've died. Nick almost died, but I stepped in and saved him. I saved someone that wasn't my soulmate.

Why?

Clay.

It's always Clay. For better or worse, normally better. Everything leads back to him, everything that's happened over the past couple of weeks. 

I've been attacked and injured more times than I can count, and nothing makes sense anymore. I've been constantly thrown in danger ever since he's arrived. Avoided it for most of my life, and it all comes at once as soon as he appears.

Oh, how one person changes everything.

That person isn't even my soulmate. Yet they've had more of an affect on me than I think even my soulmate could. I'm always in danger, and crazily, I don't mind. If that's the price I pay to have him, it's worth it. 

I'd choose danger everyday as long as I get to keep him.


	25. A Little World In A Bubble

-George's POV-

I fade in and out of consciousness over who knows how long. My vision slowly returns to normal, causing me to feel less dizzy. It's not perfect, but it's good enough. 

"How are you feeling now?" a sweet voice asks me, gently checking the area around my now bandaged wound. 

"Fine" I lie, immediately feeling the pain flood back to me. Darryl doesn't look at all convinced. "Something is bothering you" he comments placidly. "I'll move the curtain so you can talk to Nick. 

Darryl thankfully hands me some painkillers before leaving. "I need to help some other people. Tell Zak if you need anything."

Nick is awake on the other side, talking to Zak as the curtain is pushed back. He turns to me, wincing as he catches a glimpse of the bandages. "Alright what's wrong with you?" Zak asks. 

"Nothing I'm fine-"

"He's lovesick, Zakky."

Zak shoots Nick a glare, punching his arm lightly. "How many times do I need to tell people not to call me that?!"

"Oh but Darryl can" Nick smirks, batting his eyelashes as he utters the medic's name. "I get it."

"He's my soulmate, and you aren't Nicholas."

"Okay never say that again-"

"Make me."

"Hey I may be injured but I can still beat your tiny ass in a fight."

"I may be two inches-" Zak spits the height difference. "But I can still kick your ass all the same."

"Language both of you!" Darryl hollers from next door.

The two assassins laugh, focusing their attention back to me. "What's up Georgie?" Nick smirks. "Lovesick?"

He's right and I can't ignore it.

"I want Dream" I whine pathetically, not really caring about the consequences. Zak blinks rapidly a couple times, looking to Nick. Nick just rolls his eyes. "You're the last one to notice Zak" he laughs, and my stomach drops.

Who else knows?!

Darryl rushes back in, beckoning for Nick and Zak to follow him. The medic looked to be in an awful state, messy and flustered from rushing around to help as many people as possible. Shadows show through the curtain opposite me, one Nick and the other presumably Zak.

As soon as they leave, Clay rushes in. "George!" he yells, not caring who's around. "Sorry I couldn't get here sooner! I tried I swear-"

"It's fine" I smile, trying to sit up and failing. Clay wraps his arms under mine, helping me up. He leans me against the wall, nervously snoring the bedsheets below me. "You saved Nick" he breathes. "Why? Why did you save him?"

"I- I don't know..." 

"You saved him..."

"For you" I admit. "I'm not willing to help people, but I know how much Nick means to you. I couldn't just let him die." I smile at Clay, who looks strangely nervous. "I saved him for you" I repeat.

"You knew, so you interfered. You never interfere-" Clay runs through what I've told him in his heart, confused and nervous. I'm not sure what, but something is wrong.

"George..." he mumbles, avoiding my eyes as he shuffles closer to the edge of the bed. Despite the pain in my shoulder, I push myself away from the wall and closer to him. 

We hug gently, Clay being cautious not to touch the wound. His clothes are splattered in blood from the fight, but it's dried up over time. He cups my cheek with one of his hands, gently brushing his thumb over it. He pushes my glasses up onto my head to look me in the eyes, still wearing his mask.

I push his mask up to reveal his face, able to now fully look into those perfect eyes. The colour isn't right for me, and I don't care. 

It doesn't matter. I don't need to be able to see colours correctly to see that he's pretty. 

His perfect face, which he doesn't realise the true beauty of. Littered with scars, large and small from recently and long ago. Scars he hides in embarrassment, not realising how strong he is. He's gorgeous, and he just can't see it. 

Someone needs to tell this boy how perfect he truly is. And for some reason, I feel that person should be me.

I don't know what comes over me.

It happens in a blur, decided by my heart before I can stop it. I take his face in my hands and close the gap, about to do what I've only dreamed of.

Our lips brush together shyly, neither of us knowing quite how to do this. I force myself to make another move before my mind takes back control, pressing our lips together gently. My eyes slip closed, head rushing with so many thoughts I may faint.

I'm kissing Clay.

I'm kissing Clay.

I'm kissing Clay.

Why am I doing this?!

He's not my soulmate!

The butterflies in my stomach break free of their cage, swarming my stomach and making me sick. My head so dizzy with thoughts, screaming at me to pull away. But I can't, and I don't want to.

He's not kissing back.

I pull away nervously, taking his mask and using it to hide my own face. Clay's eyes are wide in shock, he hasn't moved an inch. 

What have I done.

"I- I-" Words fail needs completely as realisation sets in. My first real friend, and I've ruined it. Shattered our friendship. 

I kissed him.

Why?

As soon as a try to speak again, I'm cut off. Clay tugs the mask away from my face, pressing his lips to mine. I take a few seconds to realise what's going on, motionless. 

Clay is kissing me.

He's kissing me back.

Why is he doing this?

I'm not his soulmate!

Without a second thought to our true soulmates, we kiss in the makeshift hospital. Amongst the screaming and crying, we create our own little bubble of peace. My heart drowns out the world around me, focusing on him. Just him.

Clay's lips are soft and warm, gentle against my own. He's not as shy as me, taking more control as he tilts my chin up to deepen the kiss. I slowly move my lips against his, terrified to make a wrong move. 

He's the reason for my nerves but also calms me down, cupping my face in his hands to reassure me this is ok. My hands tangle in his sweater, begging him to come closer. Probably mixing with blood or worse from the fight and I don't care. 

For once, I don't care. 

The outside world doesn't matter. He it's just us. Just me and him. The world can do whatever, I have him. He's here, right now, kissing me. 

Not his soulmate, me.

We break away, slowly opening our eyes to meet the others. Clay looks extremely pale, his usually more tanned complexion drained. It takes every ounce of my self control to stop me kissing him again.

"So you knew" he mumbles, still trying to catch his breath.

"Knew what?"

"That we're soulmates. You did know, and you know what I am."

We're-

I look from his band to my own, and look to the shadows behind the curtain. Completely unfazed. Nothing but shock and realisation. I've not noticed. This entire time, I haven't known.

It all makes sense.

Techno said that Dream was 'one of them'. Nick blatantly told me only I can see Dream. He told me about the Devotions. I told him I knew what it was like not having my soulmate, he told me I didn't understand. 

The assassins couldn't attack Dream. Nobody attacks him for wearing his mask. Everyone ignored him when he yelled that Nick was about to die. Nobody talks to him. Everyone ignores him.

They don't ignore him.

"I-" The floor feels like it's fallen out underneath me. "You're-"

"Dead" Clay finishes. "A Devotion, your Devotion."

"We're soulmates."

Nick wasn't lying when he said Clay was dead. He didn't lie when his target changed. He was telling the truth the entire time.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I feel myself swaying, and Clay has to steady me. He climbs onto the bed next to me, resting my head in his lap as I must look like I'm about to collapse.

"Because I couldn't. You know now. Why everyone else ignores me. They don't ignore me. They can't see me. Only you can. I'm dead, I have been ever since I met you."

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you'd blame yourself" the mumbles. "You'd blame yourself for my death, I know you would. And I didn't want that, don't want that."

"You don't remember what happened. I'm sorry that I lied, but you've been tricked by your own head. There's a reason I disappeared the same day I met you. There's a reason it all happened." He pauses to take a shaking breath. I'm not sure I'm still breathing properly.

"Don't you remember when you attacked that boy in the woods?"

It suddenly all comes flooding back to me. Visions of that night, what I did. My own head has lied to me, too traumatised to deal with the situation. It made it all up to protect me. Now Clay has reminded me, and I remember everything. That's all it took.

There's a reason my head blocked it out. There's a reason Clay carries a little throwing knife identical to the one I lost that day. There's a reason my target profile was already collected. There's a reason my target didn't fight back, tried to show me their soulmate band.

I couldn't face what I did. The throwing knife Clay carries is mine, the one I lost that day. I collected my profile already. My target didn't fight back because they weren't my target. They tried to get me to understand, and I didn't listen. I couldn't see the colours. I didn't know.

I thought I was killing Darryl. I didn't. I didn't attack Darryl. I mistook Darryl for someone else. I said they looked so similar I wouldn't know the difference.

I attacked Clay. 

I killed my soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An explanation for anyone who’s confused:
> 
> The first chapter is George's POV. You watch him attack Clay, mistaking him for Darryl. He ends up killing Clay.
> 
> Clay doesn't fight back 'after throwing the first punch', as George describes it, because as soon as Clay punches him, his soulmate band appears. George covers his own, so he doesn't realise when it appears. Clay does. He tries to show George his band, but George kills him.
> 
> Clay asks George what happens to test if he remembers. He doesn't, and Clay goes along with that. George suffers from a memory loss. He forgets the first chapter happens, as his brain finds the event so traumatic it erases it entirely. He remembers it when told about it. Also why his target profile is gone when he goes to retrieve it, because he took it and forgot.
> 
> (This is a real thing: Transient Global Amnesia. If someone suffers a traumatic event, their brain may erase it and anything connected to it (eg why George also forgets collecting his target profile).
> 
> Techno can't see Dream. Only George can, which is why he's caught off guard. Techno, having his own Devotion, realised George has one too. 'You have one of them', is referring to a Devotion.
> 
> Nick catches on when he first attacks George in chapter 9. He tries to help George, but doesn't want to reveal to him what Dream is. He wants Dream to do it himself.
> 
> 'I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for him', is Nick saying 'I'm helping you because I care about him, not because I care about you.' He keeps George alive because he is the only chance of Dream being revived. 
> 
> The mystery POV's are Dream. The 'pastel blue' boy is George (hence him calling him sunshine). Nick tells George Devotions see the world weirdly. Dream can only see George, and his target, Darryl (who is the boy he sees in red, the 'devil boy'), in colour. 
> 
> He tells George he can't tell him because of a lot of things. He alludes to the damage it'll do to George in discovering he killed Dream.
> 
> George's soulmate band is black because Dream is dead. Dream's is turquoise because George is alive, despite Dream himself being dead. 
> 
> Dream is dead. He has been the entire book, except for chapter one. There’s some hints to this scattered throughout the book, such as the woman in the shop in chapter 10 thinking George was talking to himself, as well as Dream’s reaction to finding out George is colourblind in chapter 2.


	26. Lovers Are Liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if anyone still wants to kill me after last chapter, I'll leave you with this thought:  
> To anyone else, whenever Clay and George kiss, it looks to them as if George is making out with thin air.  
> How nice.

-Clay's POV-

"Sunshine?"

Another silent shake of his head. It's been a few hours since we returned back to our home, and George hasn't spoken to me once, except to apologise. Which I immediately shut down each time. 

All he's done is stare out of that same window, in the opposite direction to me. He's sat on the bed that used to be Nick's, knees curled tightly to his chest like Nick does whenever he's scared. 

Nick. 

He feels so distant, despite the fact it's not been that long since we spoke. Maybe three weeks at best since I died, the day I thought he betrayed me. 

I should've known better.

Should've known he wouldn't do that. Nick, my best friend, leave me for Techno suddenly? After all we've been through? Ridiculous, just as ridiculous as me believing it. Maybe George isn't the only one with trust issues.

George. 

He doesn't look scared, he looks upset. If he's scared, it's of himself. I've tried to talk to him, and he won't listen. Any time I go near him, he walks away. He won't talk to me, and I refuse to make him. 

Realistically, I could make him. Pick him up or pin his wrists to the wall and force him to talk. Other methods include threatening and resorting to violence, but I'd never do that to my friend.

Especially not to him. That would destroy any of the remaining trust he had left in me. It isn't fair, he can't trust people as it is. Not his own soulmate, and not even himself. 

I dwell on my use of words. 'Friend'. What is George to me? What am I to him is the better question. To me, he's my soulmate. Not just by some stupid system, but by choice. 

I'd like to think I'm the same to him, especially when he kissed me without knowing we were soulmates. Even with the slight chance we weren't, he still kissed me. Because he wanted to. 

My eyes subconsciously trail to the boy by the window. My soulmate. If he'll let me be, my boyfriend. I'd want that, but I don't know what he wants anymore. 

The guilt is eating him up inside. It's like I can see it, the chains that wrap themselves around him. The things he believes he should suffer through. Thinks he deserves to, after what he did.

He thinks I hate him. No matter how much I try to show him I don't, he thinks I do. He's told me that I can leave him all by himself, he's told me he'll leave if I want him to. I just have to say, and he'll go. He thinks I'm that repulsed by him. That the only reason I hang around him is because he's the only chance I get revived.

Truth is, I've always done everything I do for my soulmate. From the beginning of it all, all I've wanted is them. Nick knew that, and said I was ridiculous. It's normal to obsess over your soulmate, but he told me I was too obsessed. I think his exact words were 'your that cuckoo for them you'll scare them off with your craziness.'

A little hypocritical coming from the guy who ran away without telling their best friend to 'save them'. 

Three and a half week I spent in the dark, thinking my best friend had left me for no reason. That he valued the elite assassins over our friendship, over me. 

Turns out he was doing it for my own safety. But from what George told me, it sounds like he was scared of himself too. Scared he'd kill me in the heat of the moment and ruin everything.

Everything is already ruined.

Nick's soulmate is dead. I have faith he can get them back, he's strong. But I'm stick in the same situation, and my revival isn't as straight forward. 

It's not me, it's George. I've unfortunately witnessed first hand what killing someone does to him. Does to anyone, it seems wrong. No matter how many times I tell myself this is normal and it's how the world works, I still can't quite believe it. 

I did what I have to. I've killed some people sure, but not my target. I don't even know who they are. And I don't care, it doesn't make a difference now anyway. I can't kill people like this. The best I can do is injure them, and I can't even do a significant amount of damage. Being a Devotion does have its' downsides.

I wish I was real. So I could speak to Nick again instead of just seeing him around rarely. So I could see the world properly, and see George's pretty face normally instead of in blue and turquoise. 

Some other things are in colour too, but only a few. Seems pretty cruel that even as a Devotion I can see flowers in colour, but George can't. Maybe it's the world's way of making it more fair.

It's not fair. None of this is, and it isn't George's fault he killed me by accident. Yet he thinks it is, and I can't convince him otherwise.

I need to try.

"Sunshine?" I ask again, quietly to the blue boy beside the window. He only sighs in response, eyes fixed to the black band on his wrist. He keeps staring at it, as if it'll change back to normal or disappear completely if he stares hard enough. Maybe he doesn't want me here.

"I'm sorry" he mumbles, and I've lost count of how many times I've heard him utter those words. In a pitiful tone, full of self loathing and regret. 

"Don't be." I slowly move over to his bed, sitting beside him and leaving some space between us. He shuffles away, but not as far as I was expecting. An inch at best. 

"But I can't not be sorry."

"Why not?" I turn towards him with open arms, and to my surprise, he doesn't move away. He doesn't take my offer, but instead takes my hands in his. 

As soon as we touch he's turquoise, a bright and beautiful colour I only wish he could see. A perfect mix of the two of us, identical to the band around my exposed wrist, which George hasn't stopped staring at.

George ignores my last question. "I'm sorry you were given me as a soulmate" he sighs. "I'm surprised the world even let me have one-" 

I hate every word that comes out of his mouth, how wrong he is. "I wouldn't want anyone else" I whisper, pushing his glasses further up his head. "Seriously?" he asks unsurely. "Even after everything I've put you through?"

"I've spent my whole life searching for my soulmate, George. No matter how much I hate the hunter system, I'll always have faith in it working. We can't change it, so we may as well accept it. I've learnt to appreciate what we were given."

I hold his hands in mine gently, putting our palms together so that I can interlock my fingers with his. "And I was given you. Which I'm forever thankful for." George keeps staring off to either side of me, not really listening. Years of being lied to have probably caused him to stop caring.

"You're lying" he mutters. I watch him fade from turquoise back to pale blue as his hands leave mine. The colour he turns is pretty, but only makes his gaze look colder. In silence he opens the door, trying to leave the room. "I'm not. George, listen to me-"

My soulmate shoots me a glare, shuffling further towards the door. "What is there to listen to? I killed you, I bloody killed you and you still forgive me. I've been nothing but unkind to you and you still stick around."

His own words seem to drown him, making him realise the true effect of what he's done. True, George hasn't been the kindest to me. But with a past like his, you can't blame him. 

To forget a section of your memories entirely and have to blindly trust a supposed stranger when you have a history of being backstabbed can't be easy. On top of that his own disability made him kill his soulmate, and he didn't even remember doing so. 

I've lied to him. I've said some things to protect him from the truth but in the end put it all in the open. It's only strained things further. But some part of him didn't care about that then. Didn't care when he kissed me without knowing I was even his soulmate.

"Why do you still hang around?" he asks quietly, still stood in the doorway. One of my hands is tightly gripping his wrist, stopping him from moving, although he doesn't look tempted to even without restraint. 

"Is it because I'm your soulmate? Because personally, I wouldn't want to hang around with my soulmate if they're also my murderer." His eyes light up suddenly, not from happiness but from something else. 

I remember how pretty they looked when I could see things normally. Brown eyes, warm like coffee with little flecks of darker brown. Rich like chocolate, and how they reflected the stars outside and became lighter. Like his hair, fluffy and ever so soft. 

"I know why" I focus my attention back to the situation at hand, noticing George is tugging at my arm. "You want your life back, don't you? It makes sense, you rely on me for revival."

"No, it's not that." 

"Liar!" He yells, snarling at me with teeth bared. "You're lying to me! Everyone always does, and you're no different. I don't know why I expected you to be. You want to be alive again, and I get that, but stop messing with my feelings!"

I let him yell, deciding it's may help him. "I love you! I loved you even though I wasn't supposed to. Didn't know you were my soulmate and I kissed you anyway. Because I believed someone finally cares. But you don't. You're just like the rest of them."

"George, I love you."

"You don't actually love me."


	27. Call Me Boyfriend

-Clay's POV-

George retaliates almost instantly. "You wouldn't want to be around your murderer, that's ridiculous. You expect that since I killed you, I should have to revive you."

"George-"

"It makes sense. You've seen the mess it makes of me. You're here to help me kill my target so you can be revived."

"Georgie-"

"It's fine, I get it. I'll kill Darryl, and you can be revived. Then you don't have to see me ever again. You can go see Nick and be happy. I'll never come anywhere near you ever again. I'm sorry you don't get a soulmate."

"Sunshine-"

"Don't call me that" George spits. "You don't mean it. I did, I did before I ever knew I was supposed to be with you. I'm sorry you kissed back because you felt bad, and I'm sorry that this happened."

"That's not true" George's glare suggests he doesn't believe a word of it. There's something in his eyes, regretful and sorrowful now that he's recalled everything that happens. "I kissed you because I love you, not because I felt bad."

"You're a liar." George tugs his wrist from my grip, catching a glimpse of his soulmate band. Pure black, contradicting the beautifully coloured one around my own wrist.

"Nobody could love me, not even you. I know that, it's nothing new." His words cut off as he chokes them out, his legs shaking and turning weak. Eyes on the floor, which widen as he takes everything in. "I was stupid to think you'd be different. I'm not blaming you, you have every reason to hate me."

"No, I don't." I rush over to George, putting my arms under his to help steady him. He shoves me away, meeting my eyes for a few seconds. "That's what the huge gash across your forehead is from" he breathes shakily. "It's from me. I dropped my knife over your head instead of your throat. It was me, I did it."

I take a few steps back, George backing up into the door. "I'm a monster" he mutters, over and over. "I killed you. I'm a monster." He tries to open the door, keeping an eye on me at all times. 

His legs give way beneath him, and despite his protests, I catch him before he hits the floor. Almost instantly I'm shoved away, causing him to fall the rest of the way down to the floor.

"Get away from me!" He thrashes his legs out like a child, one narrowly missing me. Knowing I can't interfere, I sit there and watch it happen. 

It hurts to see, my soulmate echoing those four words over and over. Each one gets quieter and quieter, until there's tears in his eyes and I can barely understand his gasping breaths. 

"George" I start quietly after letting the silence drag out for a few minutes. "I'm not going to hurt you, and you won't hurt me. I don't hate you, not for what you did. If it was anyone else I would, and not because you're my soulmate."

George seems to have lost the energy to fight back. He sits with his back against the door, legs spread out in front of him but no longer thrashing. Eyes glistening with tears, reflecting the light like they always do. It's less pretty when he cries, but he's still beautiful.

"If you'd have known I wasn't Darryl, would you have killed me?" A slow shake of his head. "Exactly. It's not your fault you're colourblind, and I don't hold anything against you over what happened."

"You're gorgeous, George, and you don't realise it. All you look at is the negatives, but you're so much more than that. I know I haven't been the greatest soulmate or even the greatest friend, and I'm sorry too."

"Don't ever say you don't deserve to be loved, because it's not true. You deserve a soulmate, and you deserve friends and people to care about you. Don't let some people from the past blind your vision. You deserve love. And I still love you, sunshine. I love you."

George remains quiet, his glasses now over his eyes. The glasses I got him. Presumably to hide his tears, like he always tries to do. There aren't many, just a few stray ones that occasionally slide down his cheeks. 

Desperately I want to brush them away, to hug him and make him feel better. But I'm scared he'll just push me away again. That is, until he utters two words.

"Prove it."

And that's all I need to hear.

Immediately I'm by his side, wrapping my arms around him tightly. He's still shaking, but trying to calm down. I catch the look in his eyes, the way he goes to return the hug but forces himself to pull back at the last second. Fighting with himself.

"You want me to move away?" I ask quietly, nervously beginning to move my arms away. "No!" George seems to surprise even himself as he suddenly grabs my arms to stop me pulling away. His death grip is alarming, the desperation in his eyes as he looks away.   
"Sorry..." he mutters.

"Don't be." In that moment he gives in, shyly shuffling into my lap and burying his face into my shoulder. A few broken sobs escape him, so I caress his back until he calms down. I admire the turquoise as my fingers trace his skin, how it fades back to blue whenever I move my hand away. 

"Thanks" he mumbles into the crook of my neck. His breath on my skin makes me shudder, but I hold him closer nonetheless. "You're still cold" George shivers again, attempting an awkward smile. "I'm cold" he answers.

"Well sitting on the cold floor may have something to do with that."

Another faked smile. "Wait really? No way." I ruffle his hair playfully, smirking at my adorable soulmate. "Shut up, you idiot. I was suggesting we sit somewhere that isn't the floor." His arms move to around my neck, legs around my waist. "Move us then."

I do, picking him up and carrying him over to my bed. As soon as I sit down he leans against me, rubbing his arms from the cold. I pull my hoodie off, deciding that my sweater will be enough to keep me warm. 

"Have it." George takes it from me with a smile, throwing it on. I notice the way he holds it to his face, wheezing at the gushing boy beside me. 

"Sorry for being an idiot" he says in a more serious tone, rubbing the fabric of my hoodie between his fingers to distract himself. "I got a bit carried away. I should've known that at least half of the things I said weren't true." 

I recall all the awful things he said before shutting the thought down. "So something knocked some sense into you at last." I'm almost shoved off the bed by a pouting George. "It's okay" I wheeze. "Just know that I still love you."

"You still haven't proven that."

So I do, turning to the boy beside me and pressing our lips together. My soulmate, my boyfriend if he'll let me be. His lips are salty with past tears, cold against my own. 

We remain in the moment for a few seconds before I slowly pull away, resting our foreheads together. "That do?" I laugh, cupping his face. "If I say no will you do it again?" he giggles back. I smirk, jokingly pushing him and laughing even more when he grabs onto my sweater to stop me moving him any further away.

"You're such an idiot." I press a kiss to his forehead, tracing the side of his face with my finger. "True" he admits. "But I'm your idiot."

"That's so cheesy I hate it." 

"But you love me."

"Is your offer to leave still available?"

"Hey!" He pushes me away but I grab his shirt, pulling him down with me. I admire the blushing mess laying on my chest as I watch him debate frantically whether or not to move.  
To my dismay he decides to, but that disappointment dissolves quickly when he sits up only briefly to connect our lips once more.

The sensation of kissing George is amazing. It's one of the few things that make being a Devotion special in a good way. George is turquoise whenever he touch, but it's only one shade. Now different shades of turquoise seem to glow, he's always a brighter colour when we kiss. 

It's incredible to watch, and I move my left hand to his head, knotting my finger in his hair as I use my wrist as a comparison. My soulmate band flashes through shades of turquoise, matching that of George. 

Light and dark, changing in unison with each other. When he pulls away, he settles back to the original colour, and so does my soulmate band.

We lay side by side on my bed, our bodies slightly overlapping with George on top. He curls into my side, resting his head back in the crook of my neck. 

"I feel so stupid for lashing out at you like that" he mutters. The feeling of his breath on my neck gives me goosebumps, making me shiver. I remain quiet, sensing there's something else he wants to say.

"But one thing I said still makes sense to me. Do you, or at least did you, stay with me because you want to be revived?" He nervously shuffles away, knotting his fingers together as he speaks. "Because I still do feel like I owe that to you. It is my fault you're dead in the first place."

"Something you should know" I boop George's nose in hopes to lighten the mood. It earns me a weak smile, which I suppose is good enough. "When I first found you, I thought Nick had betrayed me. So I had no one. It didn't overly bother me that I was dead because I found my soulmate, who could still see me."

"But after finding out what really happened with Nick, it hurts a little more to be dead. To see him and know he can't see me."

I sigh, looking past George and out of the window on the opposite side of the room. To a greyscale world, except a few odd things. Flowers handing from windowsills are bright and colourful, contrasting the grey walls. 

There must be a reason why I can see them in colour.

"The world looks... different to me. Most things are in greyscale, but a few things aren't." George takes my hands in his, tracing my knuckles. Unknowing to him that simple action alone demonstrates my point as I watch him turn from pastel blue to turquoise. "Like what?" He asks.

"Like you. And Darryl, and flowers... for some reason. Your target profile was also in colour."  
I think back to when I first saw the target profile. Greyscale, except the picture of Darryl. "But... you're a little different."

"How so?"

"I see you in this colour... pastel blue. Which I'm guessing is your favourite colour." A silent nod. "But whenever we touch, you turn turquoise. The colour our bands should be." I notice George cringe and look towards his covered wrist. Deciding to leave out the part about us kissing, I turn my attention back to the pastel blue.

"It's strange. I see Darryl as red, but it's a washed-out sort of colour. You... glow. Like the colour I see you as glows." George looks stunned, and the look on his face is enough to make me wheeze. "Adds a whole new meaning to the name 'sunshine' I guess." 

George rests his head back against my chest, but goes strangely quiet. I quietly await his reply, admiring how his eyelashes flutter as he blinks. "Don't call me that" he suddenly spits. Just like earlier.

"What-"

"Call me boyfriend."


	28. The Good In This World

-George's POV-

"So how are we doing this again?" Clay walks behind me, checking over one side of the street as I check the other. Looking for any escape routes or possible places to be ambushed, anywhere we could be watched from by assassins or caught up in a fight.

"We're going to catch Darryl off guard. In the second shop that he works in on the outskirts of town, which is just over here." I check the street turns, trying to remember the way Nick took me when it was just us. 

Using the route we used when Zak was with us would be ridiculous. It's the open route, plus it's the one he'd most expect me to take if he happens to catch a glimpse of me. That shouldn't happen, but it's a precaution. One of the many, many precautions.

We approach the right corner, I remember the buildings around here. Specifically the tallest one, washed-out blue walls signifying it used to be the property of the elite assassins. Nick wouldn't talk much about it, but he did suggest it was owned by them at some point. 

It also wasn't where Zak was meeting Techno, 'incase I had the balls to try catch them both off guard', as Nick worded it. 

Helpful information, although I didn't know it would be at the time. But it only crosses out one of the many possible places Zak could have had his meeting. Clay seems to notice as such, as he takes a few seconds to stop and scan the surrounding area.

"What if their meeting spot is nearby?" he asks. "You said Skep had a meeting out here with Techno. They could've been in any of the surrounding buildings." Clay casts his eyes up to the skyline. "Area is pretty built up. They could watch from any building."

He steps further out into the street, slowly spinning on the spot and checking over every window to see if it's really boarded up. One side looks more built up, and the planks covering the windows look less like they're doing their job and more like decoys. "Alleyway isn't out of view on that side either. We could get ambushed."

"You mean I. Nobody can see you."

"Doesn't mean I'm not here. I can still be hurt you know." Clay pulls out a rough map he's been sketching along the way, drawing crosses over some buildings. He also circles the south-east side, the side which is most open. 

"But you can't be killed, not twice. Some of us can still die."

"If you die, I die too. Like actually, we won't get another chance if we're both dead." He's right. If I die, we're both dead forever. Can't be a Devotion and can't be revived.

"I'm trying not to think about that currently..." When I trail off, Clay immediately fills the gap in conversation. "Then here's something better to think about: whenever you kiss me, you look like you're kissing thin air to everyone else." 

My boyfriend immediately tries to kiss me after, making a scene out of it in an empty street. I shove him away, backing up towards the medic's shop. "Thank you for reminding me never to kiss you in public."

"Awh Georgie!" Clay pouts, grabbing my arms and pulling me back into the centre of the street with a daring smirk. He takes my hands, placing one of them on his arm and keeping the other. I'm too dazed to fight back as Clay rests one of his hands on my waist, twirling us in a small circle. 

We dance in the deserted streets, which is something I never thought I'd do. I've never learnt how to dance, and have no idea how Clay knows. He's pretty good at it too, so I mostly follow his lead and try to replicate his movements.

"Clay, what if someone can see us?!" I shriek when he dips my head dangerously close to the ground. He must notice how I jump thinking for a second I may hit the pavement, as his grip suddenly tightens.

"Nobody can see me anyway" he wheezes. "But even if they could, I don't really care right now. Let them." 

And I decide that's a good enough answer, as I can't bring myself to stop when I notice the beautiful smile that illuminates his face. Matching his bright green eyes which glisten in the morning sun, and it's ridiculous how pretty they can be despite being a different colour to me. 

His cheeks are covered in freckles, more prominent out in the light. Little dimples forming in the corners of his mouth from his bright smile. He claims I'm the one who glows in his distorted vision, but I don't need to be a Devotion to see he does too.

It's ridiculous that a system from this corrupt world could actually do some good. Giving me the sweetest, prettiest and most forgiving person. He's perfect, maybe the system is right all along. There's some good in this world after all, and they're stood right in front of me. 

But I'm not telling him that, he doesn't need his ego fed.

"Are you done being childish?" I ask, some part of me hoping he isn't. Clay takes a step back, bowing to me with a smirk plastered across his face. "Now I'm done." I scoff. "Good, now lets go."

"You're supposed to curtsy at the end of a dance."

"Excuse me?!"

Clay gives out a ridiculous wheeze, so high pitched it could make dogs bark. He tugs my sleeve, pulling me towards our actual destination. "You clearly don't know how to dance, so I'll let you off this time. But next time, you know what to do."

"If you keep this up there isn't going to be a next time."

Another classic Clay wheeze. "Oh there will be. I don't care if I have to lift you off the ground to do it, I can and I will."

"That'll look so weird" I laugh, thinking about how it'd look to everyone else. Me, floating above the ground while dancing. That thought alone is enough to make me cringe.

"It won't forever. People will be able to see me again soon." Ah yes, the goal. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. I have to kill someone, another person. I've already killed someone.

What if the same thing happens again?

Amnesia resurfaces and I forget everything again. Everything. It could mean I forget where I am, what happened, everything. 

I could forget Clay.

"That won't happen" Clay intercepts my thoughts. "I'll be alive again soon, I'm sure of it. You won't let me tell you no, so I have to be." 

Clay tried to convince me it was okay and that he didn't mind being like this forever. But I know he's lying. He misses Nick, and Nick misses him. I'm the one who killed him, I owe it to him. 

Plus he deserves a normal life again, where everyone can see him. Where he's really there. But for now, he's there for me. My soulmate is here. He's not real to everyone, but he's real to me.

"You deserve a normal life, to be real." I simply say, hoping he'll change the subject. The constant reminder he's dead is enough to make me feel sick. Sick at what I've done. "But I'm real for you" he replies.

"And honestly, that's good enough for me."


	29. Horrors Never Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Devotion definition:   
> Love, loyalty or enthusiasm for a person or activity.
> 
> I'm using the ideas of loyalty and love for a person. If you're 'devoted' to someone, you are loyal to them. It's the idea that the ghosts (Devotions) are loyal to their soulmates even after death.

-George's POV-

The medic shop is larger than I remember it being. A small cupboard is behind the desk, which I don't remember being there before. Maybe I didn't notice it in the commotion when the group of people arrived suddenly last time.

Darryl knows about Devotions. There's a chance he could tell that Clay is around, he could have learnt a way to sense their presence. He definitely noticed the Devotion with the boy last time, so he could notice Clay too. That could be detrimental to our plan.

"You think Darryl knows about you?" I ask casually over my shoulder, sifting through something draws and pocketing some of the supplies. We must've got lucky, the door was left open, and most supplies seem to have been left here. But there's nobody around, the shop is empty. As are the surrounding streets.

Or at least we thought, when the door suddenly swings open. Clay is quick to pull me under a table, adjusting the boxes beneath so they mostly cover me. I'm about to yell that he hasn't covered himself when I remember he's invisible to everyone except me.

Clay kneels beside me, pressing a finger to his lips in a silent signal to be quiet. He then points towards the front door, presumably telling me he's going to watch whoever came in. I nod silently, blushing as he presses a kiss to my forehead with a smile before leaving.

"So where's that boyfriend of yours, Zakky?" The voice is familiar sounding, Sapnap is here. It'd be comforting if not for the person he addressed. Darryl isn't here, but Skeppy is.

"He'll be back in a half hour. Had to take care of some extra patients near the hub, Snapmap."

"Call me Snapmap again and we're gonna have issues."

Zak scoffs. "Welcome to my life. You all call me Zakky despite me telling you not to." His voice gets louder, footsteps echoing across the floor as he comes closer. Terrifying, and I hold my breath when he moves a few of the boxes near me. 

Realistically, Darryl isn't the problem. He's a medic, and as I've seen from the market fight, can't defend himself. The problem is his soulmate. We need to catch them separately, when Zak is as far away as possible. 

Thankfully Zak stops moving boxes, pulling something out of one of them and stepping back. "What the fuck is that?" Nick asks, presumably taking whatever it is out of Zak's hands as I hear the shorter sigh. "Absolutely no idea. But Darryl knows what to do with it."

"I've only ever seen this stuff once before" Nick drawls, and I part the boxes hiding me a little to see him turning over the item in his hands. It's a small bottle, filled with a clear liquid. "Morphine sulphate" he reads from the label, eyebrows raising in recognition.

Zak is quick to snatch back the bottle, tucking it into his pocket. "I've seen that stuff before actually" Nick recalls. "It's a strong painkiller. Only time I've seen it was when you know what happened."

I watch Zak squirm uncomfortably, hand immediately going to the group of scars across his face. There's a particularly deep one near his eye, similar in size to Darryl's. Definitely knife wounds of some sort. 

He stays quiet, so Nick keeps talking. "You probably didn't need it thinking back to it, but Darryl just can't say no to you. That and apparently you screamed like a child."

"If you had a knife stabbed into your face you'd have screamed too" Zak snaps, suddenly defensive. "You weren't even there, Nick. So shut up." 

Zak walks away, sitting on the front desk just out of my view. I can see his legs swinging off the side as he speaks, venom still lacing his voice. "You've only heard what happened."

"For the record, I almost died. So did Darryl. You didn't see it for yourself, and it fucking hurt." He trails off, quietening down. "But I'd do it again to stop what almost happened from happening." 

Nick nods, face suddenly more calm. He seems to have noticed he hit a nerve in Zak when mentioning this event. "It's crazy enough you did it the first time for him. I respect you for that, Zak. You care about him a lot."

Presumably, this is the event Darryl was referring to when he said Zak had seen some things. From what I've heard, Darryl and Zak must've got into a fight. 

They both almost died, and something really bad almost happened to Darryl. But Zak stopped it, and ended up getting badly stabbed in the process. That must be the larger scar. Whatever happened must've been really nasty.

"I do" Zak mumbles. "I do, a lot. He gets made fun of a lot, mainly for his profession, and he doesn't deserve it. Darryl is an angel. He's the sweetest person I've ever met."

Nick nods, letting Zak speak without interruption. "People have told me it's ridiculous that my soulmate is a medic when I'm an elite assassin. I've always told them I don't care, and it'll remain that way." 

I part another gap in the boxes to watch Zak. He's rolled up his sleeve, admiring the apparently purple band beneath. He's smiling fondly at it, tracing a finger over the thin line. "He's my soulmate, I love him. And I don't give a shit what anyone else says."

Nick cheers like Zak has finished a speech, clapping far louder than necessary. I'm jealous of the elite assassins in that sense, they don't have to worry about being attacked all the time. 

Clay doesn't seem to care either, he's just as if not more reckless than they are. Like when we danced in the street ten or so minutes ago. He's fearless, or at least he acts it. Minus the whole fear of heights situation.

The door swings open, and I hear Clay gasp. Luckily nobody can hear him, but he's careful not to move anything. He can still interact with objects, and that'd give away that he's here. And consequently, that his soulmate is probably with him.

"George, we need to leave." Clay crouches beside the boxes, wide eyes as he nervously checks the door. "Why?" I mouth to him, knowing I can't speak or I'll give us away. Clay doesn't seem to understand what I'm saying, so I try whispering instead.

"I said why-"

Immediately I'm cut off by Clay's lips against mine. He pulls me closer to him, holding me so tightly I can't pull away.

"You hear something?" Zak asks, walking in our direction. "Are you going crazy again?" Nick asks jokingly, also walking towards us. I try to pull away, but Clay won't let me. "I think he's finally lost it" a third voice laughs, and I realise then why Clay looked so worried.

Techno is here.

"Can we check around anyway?" Zak asks, coming even closer. I hear him resting through the boxes only a few in front of the ones hiding me. "You're paranoid" Nick scoffs. "it's probably Darryl coming in through the back and singing something dumb as usual." 

"Maybe you should check?" he suggests. Zak agrees, leaving to the back room. "I'll check over here. Intruders would be after the expensive stuff in the back right?" Nick tells Techno, who follows Zak into the back rooms.

Clay pulls away, out of breath and panting from holding the kiss for so long. "Sorry" he breathes. "Didn't know how else I could get you to shut up." 

As soon as Skeppy and Techno leave, the boxes are pulled away from in front of us. "You're welcome" Nick whispers. "Now get the fuck out." I whisper a thank you to Nick, attempting to stand on shaky legs. Clay helps me up, and Nick seems unfazed that I'm held up by an invisible force.

"Hi Clay" he whispers, offering a sad smile and a small wave in greeting. "Sorry that this happened. But at least you got what you wanted. You always said it was your dream to find your soulmate." Nick snickers at the word 'dream'. "Even if he is an idiot." 

Clay is blinking back tears, waving at Nick like he can see him. It breaks my heart seeing the lonely look on his face accompanied by the pathetic wave. Something inside of him breaks every time he mentions Nick. More motivation to get him revived.

"Tell Nick I miss him please" Clay whispers, choking back a sob. "Clay says hi, and wanted me to tell you that he misses you."

Nick smiles sweetly. "Miss you too. I hope you forgive me. I'm sure George explained what I told him to you." Clay utters an 'of course I forgive you' that Nick will never hear.

"He does" I supply, using the interaction to steady myself without Clay supporting me. "Good" Nick smiles. "Now get the fuck out before you're both dead."

I whisper one last thank you to Nick before running out the front door at high speed, dragging Clay with me. He keeps looking back at Nick, completely distracted.

"You'll get to talk to him again one day" I tell Clay confidently. "I promise." Clay nods, forcing himself to look away. "Alright. Use the same alleyway we planned to?" He keeps snatching glimpses of the shop, probably still watching Nick.

"Clay you need to look away. I know you want to see Nick, but now is really not the time." I pull him down the turning he almost misses, dragging him along behind me. "George it's not that. Techno isn't with them." I turn around to check, walking into something. Or rather, someone.

"You thought you could escape that easily?"


	30. Here For You

-Clay's POV-

As soon as I hear him, I go on the offensive. Turning around as quickly as I can, I swing blindly in the direction of his voice. My first hit is successful, landed with my dagger. Or rather, George's dagger. I hate using it for obvious reasons, but it's the best thing I have for close combat.

I notice that much like Illumina, I can see the colour of the blood when I draw it. Nothing else is in colour, but the blood pouring from the cut I inflicted is its' normal colour. Bright red, probably blending in with the identically-coloured blood-red cape Techno is so famously known for.

"So they're here again..." he spits, swinging his sword in my direction and missing. Not by much, but by enough to give me some comfort. "Who are you? I know you're here."

George backs up, drawing his sword. "Where's yours?" George asks with an abnormally high amount of confidence. "Didn't you want to bring them?" Dave glares at George, then at the alleyway behind him. Probably assessing where George will try to run and how best to cut him off or kill him before he gets there.

"Well no, Technoblade doesn't need assistance." He turns away from me, instead readying to focus his attacks on George. "Doesn't matter that I'm outnumbered anyway. I only have to kill one of you for both to die." 

He smirks, pulling out another blade. A shorter one for closer combat, compared to his huge, glistening sword, that glitters like diamonds. Knowing Dave's wealth and extravagance, it's probably made from them.

"Plus I probably count as two people anyway." He adds confidently. There's a glint in his eyes, lips curled into a sadistic smile. This is just a normal day for him. Fighting any challengers, but this time it's for the kill. I managed to catch him off guard before, we may not be so lucky this time.

With terrifying grace and efficiency, Dave leaps forward and swings at George. His hooked secondary blade catches in the fabric of George's shirt, slicing through the hem barely a centimetre away from his skin. It's enough to throw George of balance, causing him to back up while he recollects his thoughts.

I decide it's my turn to strike while Dave's back is turned. Leaping to the side, I swing my blade at his shoulder. I can't kill him as a Devotion. But if I can disarm him, he may back down. My blow lands, slicing through flesh just below his left shoulder blade. Wrong side, but enough damage is still done to at least worsen his aim with the secondary blade.

Dave is quick to readjust his position, turning on the spot and swinging in my direction. I manage to dodge fast enough that the blow isn't fatal, but my neck is still scraped in the process. 

When I regain my footing, I notice that his aim is still immaculate despite the damage I did to his shoulder. It's then I remember that Devotion's can't do much damage, and my blow must've been no more than a scrape to him.

"George you need to disarm him!" I yell, jabbing my dagger at his stomach while trying to avoid the one aimed at my own. Despite the fact I'm invisible, Dave's aim isn't far off. As he fights me he must learn more about my build and height, as well as my strengths and weaknesses. He's learning pretty quickly, already almost landing fatal blows. 

As fatal as they can be to someone who's already dead. 

He's trying to injure me enough he can kill George without worrying about me attacking at the same time. Or tire me out enough that I can't fight any longer. Most likely the first one, as there's no way for him to assess my stamina without fighting me for a long time.

If only he knew that he already has.

George watches us fight nervously, wanting badly to interfere but not knowing how to. He keeps edging closer when I have the upper hand, debating where to strike but always missing his chance. 

It's his nerves. Nobody has ever taught George to fight before, but I've seen his hunting skills. He'd be a natural fighter, I've witnessed first hand that he's pretty good in hand-to-hand combat. 

Better at surprising people, stealth is his strongpoint. He caught me off guard when he killed me, and I was worried for a second. It's after the initial attack that his nerves get the better of him. Once he's in the fight and has lost the element of surprise, he freezes up completely. 

That's only been made worse by his amnesia. His confidence is drained, scared that he'll pass out any second when his mind decides it becomes too much. 

"George you need to focus" I yell to him. "Listen to me." George nods shakily, tightening his trembling grip around the hilt of his sword. "You need to strike Techno when he's weak. I'll pull him down, you stab him in the arm. The right arm, we need to disarm him and run." 

Another petrified nod from George, who's eyes are wide with fear. They look from me to Dave, watching as I pivot to avoid another dangerously close blow. I inflict another of my own to his chest, barely scraping through his shirt.

"Ready?" I ask George, preparing myself to lunge at Dave. If I can hold him down long enough for George to inflict the blow, we should be able to escape. 

I've been making our fight edge closer to the medic's shop, as I noticed that Darryl has returned. If George can pull this off, Darryl will drag Dave away from the fight as soon as he sees the injury, leaving us enough time to flee. 

There's no sign of Zak inside, but he could attack from behind at any second. Hopefully Nick can distract him or at least hold him off for a while longer. 

As I wait George's reply, I stupidly drag my attention away from Dave. For a little too long, as he's lunged at me before I can register what's going on. By the time I realise I'm already pinned to the floor, back slamming into the concrete pavement below. 

"Gotcha" Dave sneers, holding his sword close to my neck and gripping his curled heart in the other. Despite not being held down, I can't move. Any attempt to would end in my throat getting slit. Even if I can't die, I can still get hurt. Normally I wouldn't mind, but it's impractical. If Dave attacks again before it heals, I'll be useless.

That's why he's doing it, he knows I can't die. But he also knows I'm not stupid enough to injure myself badly enough for him to get it easy if we manage to escape this time. 

"Not moving? Wise decision" he smirks. "But I'll need to injure you just as a precaution." I ready myself to dodge a swing to my neck, waiting for him to raise the sword. But to my surprise he doesn't, and I'm caught off guard when a sharp pain explodes in my stomach. 

It's enough to make me scream, although only George can hear. I look down to see the end of the hooked secondary blade through my hoodie, cutting through the flesh beneath. But I also see George, stood above us shakily trying to position his sword over Dave's arm like I said to.

The pain is near blinding, but I force myself to screw my eyes shut and grip Dave's wrist and hold it in place. If I can keep it steady, George should be able to attack. That does however mean Dave's blade is still in my stomach.

I can't die. This is okay.

Please don't pass out...

Please don't pass out...

A yell pierces the air that isn't my own, and I open my eyes to see Dave laying on the floor, clutching his forearm. Bright red blood pools from it, soaking through his shirt and running down his arm. He snarls, swinging at George with his left arm and missing by a lot. The pain is disorienting him, he can't concentrate. 

I'm in a similar condition. Now that the blade has been removed, my stomach is bleeding even worse. My vision blurs and refocuses as I try to move, only making the situation worse.

Please don't pass out...

I'm gonna pass out...

"Techno muffin!" Darryl sprints out of the shop and to Dave's side, pulling his hand away from the wound to examine it. Zak shortly follows, standing between George and the other two boys incase George tries to attack. Which he doesn't. 

Instead he runs to me, forcing himself to shut up as to not give away my identity. He nervously blocks me from the elite assassins opposite incase Zak tries to attack while I'm weak. 

Nick comes to Dave's side, helping Zak lift him from the floor and carry him inside. As soon as Darryl takes over, Nick rushes straight back to us. He pulls out his sword, aiming it at us. "Back up and into the alleyway" he mutters to George. "Pretend I'm threatening you, we have to make this shit believable."

George looks to me before silently obeying. He backs up across the floor, not needing to pretend he's terrified after the shock of the last situation. "You need to help us" George begs. "I can't carry Dr-"

"Clay" Nick cuts across. "Don't use that name here. He's Clay. How hurt is he?"

"Enough that he can't walk for sure." 

Nick rolls his eyes, attempting to keep up his facade of confidence. His back remains to me, focused on George, who's focused on me. "Alright. But you'll need to be a distraction" Nick decides.

I want to yell, tell Nick that it's an awful idea. That I won't have George put himself in danger when I know I can't die. It just hurts, it can't kill me. It's not worth George risking a second attack, especially as he'll be on his own.

I want to yell, but I can't. Nick can't hear me, and George won't listen. They'll decide what they want to, and I can't get up. Can't stop them, can't hold George back and stop him from doing it. George nods to Nick, who's talking, but I can't make out what he's saying.

I'm gonna pass out...

My head is ringing, vision blurred so badly I can't make out the difference between one street and another. My eyes drift to the square, where George and I were dancing merely a half hour ago. Like nothing mattered.

I can't die. This is ok.

It's worth it for him. 

For George.

I want to yell, but I can't. As George runs off, and as Nick comes to kneel at my side. For his sake I hope no elite assassins can see, he'll be in big trouble if they can. 

Life-threatening trouble.

My former best friend reaches out a hand, searching around until he finds me. His hand traces over mine, and he knots our fingers together for a few seconds before letting go. 

"Hey buddy" he whispers with a distorted smile in my blurry vision. "I know you're worried about your little Georgie, but he'll be okay. And so will you." He puts away his sword, picking me up bridal style after figuring out where my head is so he can support it.

"I could be talking to myself at this point as you've passed out, but I don't know." Nick laughs at his own bitter humour. I lean my head against his chest, biting back a scream. 

"I'm here for you buddy" he whispers. "I'm here, you're gonna be ok. George will be back, he'll be fine."

"Have faith in him. He'll be fine, and so will you. So will I." Nick holds me tightly, picking up his pace to a run. "You're gonna be ok buddy, just hang on a little longer. You can't die, you're safe. It hurts, I know, but hang on for me."

I nod, pretending he can see. Remembering he can still understand if I touch him, I try my best to wrap a weak arm around him. Nick smiles back at me, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. "You are still here" he mumbles. "Good."

"I'm here too Nick" I whisper sleepily, giving in to unconsciousness that has been threatening for so long to drag me under. He can't hear me, but that's ok. "I'm here too Nick" I repeat.

"I'm here too."


	31. See You Again

-Clay's POV-

Consciousness comes and goes along the trip back to wherever Nick is taking me. I hope it's not too far, as the pain in my stomach is only made worse by the way I'm being carried. Not that Nick can tell, and I appreciate enough that he's helping. 

I can't talk to him, which makes this harder. Communication is impossible when George isn't here to help. He's nowhere to be found, and hasn't caught up with us at any point along the trip. 

Wherever he is, I just hope he's ok.

The worry from that alone is enough to keep me conscious most of the time. Worrying over someone who isn't immune to death, and is far less capable in combat than his opposition. I remind myself he excels in stealth, but that's not enough to settle my troublesome thoughts. 

Either that or the pain keeps me awake. A method that also keeps me unconscious, when it becomes so much that my body screams out for it to drag me back under. This is the case when Nick tries to climb a ladder and carry me. I pass out from then onwards, and don't wake up for what must a while after.

~~~

"Clay are you there?" Slowly I open my eyes, blinking a couple times to adjust to the light shining into my eyes. A figure blocks out that light, standing over me with a worrisome look plastered across their face. 

"Clay? Clay? Clay?" they ask over and over, poking me in the arm each time they call my name. I want to answer, to give them a sign. But I can't bring myself to, and I quickly fade away again.

~~~

"Clay?" Another voice asks. It's someone else this time, their voice is higher pitched. Rich and sweet like honey, familiar. I blindly reach out with my eyes still closed, fingers knotting into the fabric of a shirt. "You think he'll hold on this time?" another voice asks from further away, nervous. "I hope so."

The name doesn't come to me, but I know who this is. They're safe, and it's ok. Blearily I open my eyes, immediately noticing the red blood running down a turquoise face. 

My hand drifts towards the blood, wiping it away softly. The familiar figure wraps their hand over mine, smiling sweetly. "I'm ok" they reassure me, smiling sweetly. From over their shoulder I see the other figure, the one who asked if I'd remain conscious this time.

That's quickly answered when I fade back out of reality, my fingers grazing the blue boy's face as they slip away.

~~~

"Clay? Clay can you hear me?" When I open my eyes I'm met with George, wide-eyes focused on my face. "Hello? Earth to Clay?" he asks. 

I notice he's holding one of my hands, sitting beside me on the bed I lay upon. Our fingers are neatly intertwined, his thumb caressing the back of my hand gently. He looks worried, and tired. There's dark lines under his pretty eyes, proving he must be exhausted.

"You should sleep" is the first thing that comes to me, and George sighs in relief. "That's what you have to say?" he laughs. "I can't anyway, Nick is using my bed."

"That's ridiculous" I smile. With a quick pull I tug George down so that he's laying beside me. Careful to avoid my stomach, which I notice is now covered in a thick layer of bandages, he shuffles closer to me. "Need anything before I inevitably fall asleep?" George asks, and I giggle before debating my answer.

"You."

"You're ridiculous" he blushes. It's funny how he still gets flustered by even the simplest of my cheesy remarks. George rests his head in the crook of my neck, wrapping his arms around my chest. I drape my own around his waist, moving away only briefly to plant a kiss on his forehead. 

"Your face is bleeding" I comment, rubbing my thumb over his cheek to wipe away the blood. "Don't care" George mumbles sleepily. "G'night."

"Night, sunshine."

~~~

"Clay?"

How many times am I going to wake up to this?!

"What?" I mumble, looking to my right only to realise George is still asleep. I look across the room to Nick, who's laying wide awake in George's bed. Which, in his defence, did used to be his own.

"Clay?" Nick rolls his eyes, smirking at his own stupidity. "Right. You can't talk." I'm almost just as stupid, stopping myself from muttering a 'no, I can't' in response.

"Wait" Nick's eyes light up. "You can interact with everything else still. Knock on the wall if you can hear me." I turn to my side, knocking against the wall lightly in hopes of not waking George up. 

"Perfect!" Nick cheers, and I wish I could tell him to be quieter. But I can't, so I'll have to make do. George shifts in his sleep, knotting his fingers into my sweater. I run a hand through his fluffy hair until he loosens his grip.

"Well that's an interesting sight" Nick mutters, thankfully lowering his voice. "George's hair just moves all by itself." He runs a hand through his own hair, picking up his bandana laying beside him and tying it around his head. 

"Now don't you dare kiss him in front of me or I'll hand you both in to Dave. It's bad enough being stuck around the Skephalo boys. Makes me want to bleach my eyes and slam their heads against walls." 

I'm not tempted to kiss George in front of Nick anyway. Not for that reason, hell I'd happily traumatise him, but out of respect that his soulmate is dead. It only seems fair, I can't imagine what it's like to be him right now. 

It's a very one-sided conversation, mainly me listening to Nick talk at me. "I'm not surprised George told me to bring you here" Nick sighs. "Only place I could think of. I miss doing this when we didn't have so many problems." 

He suddenly holds up his hands in defence. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you that you've found your soulmate. Even if he's an idiot." Nick looks to George and smirks. I take one of George's hands, bending his fingers down to show the middle one to Nick. 

"Wow" Nick laughs. "Very mature, Clay. If I didn't know before, I have confirmation now. It's definitely you." I hold back a laugh, trying my best not to wake George. Although I feel he may already be awake. 

"I just miss the simpler times" Nick continues, directing his gaze out of the window. His legs are folded beneath him, much like George's are whenever he sits in that exact spot.

"And I miss you" Nick adds with another sad sigh. "I miss us, when it was so much easier. I never got to explain myself to you. Stupid of me just to leave you, but I couldn't bring myself to come anywhere near you."

"Not that it matters now" he mutters. "You're dead anyway. If I'd have been with you, that probably never would've happened."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I abandoned you with no explanation, that I made you think you did something wrong. I know what you're like Clay, don't blame yourself. Sorry for having to side with the opposition, I hate it too. But it's for my own safety. Not for my sake, but for my soulmate's. I want to get them back."

I wish I had something to write with. If I did I'd write it all out, tell him that I forgive him and I'll help him get his soulmate back. That I won't be dead forever. 

Thank him for helping George all this time, for sparing him and saving him. Helping him out along the way and helping us even with the price he'll pay if found out.

There's two people in my life that make it worth living. They're both in front of me, right here, right now. Two people I'd do anything to protect, to keep safe. I don't care how much pain it'll put me through, I'll keep them alive. 

Because I love them. I love them both, in two different ways. My best friend, and my boyfriend. The two things that prove to me there's some good left in this broken world after all. 

"George is..." Nick cuts himself off. "He's clearly messed something up. I'm not sure what has happened, but there's clearly something wrong on his end. He didn't know you were dead for so long." 

"But either way, he's clearly good for you. And I know he cares about you, more than you could ever know. I've seen the way he worries about you, how highly he speaks of you to me. He loves you, a lot."

Nick laughs to himself, suddenly standing up. He picks up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. Readjusting the scabbard on his belt, clerking over his weapons. "I better be off before I get caught. Take care of yourselves."

I manage to wriggle my way out from underneath George, running across the room and engulfing Nick in a heartfelt hug. Nick hugs back with some difficulty, trying his best to figure out where exactly I am. 

"I'm sure I'll see you again someday."


	32. Not This Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: panic attack. (You can skip it, just stop at the '————', then skip to the 'skip here!', also marked with '————‘.

-George's POV-

"How the fuck do you expect to kill someone if you can't lay a single hit on me?" Clay sidesteps another of my wild slashes, blocking my sword with his own. No effort is put behind his movements, and the casual sidestep feels insulting. I'm sure he's not trying to belittle my skill, but that's what it feels like.

"Sorry Mr 'people call me Dream because I'm a hope symbolism'." I mimic Clay's voice back to him as he parries another of my slashes. Effortlessly, much to my dismay. 

"The name was given to me" Clay shrugs, swinging his sword at my shoulder. I block it and fend him off before it comes anywhere near me, and a swell of pride explodes in my chest.

That is, until I notice where Clay's other arm is. 

"You got distracted again." He signals towards his left hand, where his secondary weapon must be barely a centimetre from my stomach. I was so distracted with blocking the first hit that I didn't even notice the second. 

The elite assassins always wield two weapons, a primary and a secondary, so preparing for both is especially important. Plus remembering that most strike mainly with their right hand instead of their left, unlike me. 

"Hello, you're about to get stabbed" Clay snaps his fingers in front of my face, having returned his secondary weapon to its' holder. A little throwing knife, which he always keeps out of sight. 

The little throwing knife.

——————————————————————————

A little throwing knife I found not too far from here, and took precisely for this purpose. 

"Stop!"

"Please! Please you're doing the wrong thing!"

"You realise I could've killed you..."

"I could've, but I haven't. There's a reason why."

"No it's not! You've got this all wrong, let me go!" 

"You're doing the wrong thing."

"This isn't how it's meant to be."

It's that knife.

My eyes trail back to Clay, also known as Dream. His forehead has a large gash across it, healing, but it'll scar. It'll definitely scar. He's got so many already, he didn't deserve anymore.

He tried to stop me, he tried, and I didn't listen. I got caught up in the moment, everything, that I thought is spent five years preparing for only to find I messed up. Got it wrong. All that planning, wasted. 

I'm lucky it was him. Otherwise I'd be the one dead, killed immediately by whoever I decided to attack. He didn't kill me. Not only that, but he let me kill him. Knowing I was wrong, knowing he'd come back as a Devotion.

I can't do this.

I can't handle this. 

"Dream I can't do this."

I'm distantly aware of my sword falling from my hand, shortly accompanied by dagger. It's a throwing knife.

A little throwing knife.

I can't do this...

I'm underprepared.

I'll attack the wrong person again.

I'll faint again.

I'll get amnesia and forget everything again.

I'll have to start over again. 

I'll forget Dream again.

I'll get attacked by Techno all over again.

He's going to kill me.

I'll kill someone else first.

I can't kill people.

I can't.

I can't do this...

"Dream I can't do this!" I fall to the floor. My head is spinning. Those voices close in, the ones I'm always trying to shut out. A reminder I can't, that I'll mess up. I've always been weak, nothing has ever changed. Nothing will ever change. This training is pointless.

Useless.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

"Dream!" Theres footsteps echoing around me, commotion in the streets. There's voices, so many that I can't tell which are and aren't real.

I just said his nickname. I just screamed the name known to the whole city. The one wanted by the elite assassins.

They're coming.

They're coming. They're going to take him away from me. I'll be all alone. Again. I can't be alone again. Not now, not here. I need someone here. People always abandon me, not again.

Not this time...

Not this time...

I can't be left alone again. Not after I've learnt what comfort is, what it really feels like to be loved. To lose the one good thing in this world would destroy me completely. 

I can't lose him...

Not Dream not Dream not Dream...

I can't lose him...

"I can't do this!"

"Dream!"

"I'm here." 

Despite the blur, the overwhelming noise in the background, he's... calm. Like he's not bothered, like nothing is wrong. 

Blindly I reach out for him, looking for something from reality to hold on to. He's there, right next to me, completely still. I find his hands and take them, pulling off his gloves and throwing them aside. 

His palms are warm, calloused from multiple fights over the years. But they're real, and he's real. Not to everyone, but to me. And that's all that matters.

"You're... here..." I gasp through shaky breaths, trying to convince myself this is real. It is real, and he's here. I'm certain of it.

"I'm here" he repeats. Quietly, yet certainly. "I'm here. This is real, and I'm here. So are you." 

——————————————————————————

I force myself to open my eyes, and finding myself staring back into his. Shining green orbs, bright green. I think they'd be called forest green, they're a similar shade to that of the forest. Even dull yellow, they're still pretty.

"You're real?" I ask shyly. The question must sound ridiculous, but I don't care. Later I'll care, but not now. Not here, and not now.

"I'm real" he confirms. "Definitely real. So are you." My eyes flicker up to his forehead, where the gash is. Deeper and more prominent than the other marks that litter his face, fatal. 

As soon as I look at it I feel the panic creep back in, and Dream must notice too. He's quick to wrap his hand over mine, bringing it up to his forehead. My fingers brush against the deep cut, but Dream doesn't bat an eyelid. 

"See?" he says, so softly it's near a whisper. "Healed. Everything heals George, everything heals." He cups my face with his other hand, brushing his thumb over the scar on my jaw. "So do people" he adds, meeting my eyes.

My hand is redirected to his chest, directly over his heart. Despite being dead, he still breathes as if he's alive. His breathing becomes deeper, more dragged out. I manage to match it pretty quickly, seeing as I've mostly calmed down already.

"You think I'll be healed one day?" I ask shyly, averting my eyes from his. Clay nods back with a sweet smile, pressing a kiss to the scar on my jaw. "You will be, sunshine, and you're already halfway there." 

"Thank you" I breathe calmly, resting my head on his shoulder. "For dealing with that. And me." 

"You don't need to thank me, it's what friends do." I move away slightly to give him a strange look. "And boyfriends" he corrects with a smile. 

"Good" I respond, lacking any other words. I'm still stunned by what just happened. Not only what happened to me, but to him. Clay didn't seem bothered by what was going on. Not at all. 

"You're strangely calm for someone who just watched their boyfriend have a panic attack" I comment. He gives me a sweet smile, moving away to pack up my dropped weapons that still lay scattered across the floor. 

"I've..." he trails off, biting his bottom lip. Debating something. "You don't have to say if you don't want to..." I tell him, suddenly uncomfortable in the tensing atmosphere. "I've... had experience" he settles with, and I decide to leave it at that. 

"Think that's enough training for the day?" he asks, and I give him a silent nod before turning away. Focusing on something, anything else than the weapons Clay is busy collecting. 

As soon as I look away he notices, quick to place the weapons back on the floor. "Would it be better if we were inside?" he asks, and I reply with another nod. I'm about to get up when Clay stops in front of me, picking me up instead. 

"Not necessary. I'll carry you" he says casually in way of explanation. Not that I'm complaining in the first place. I'm quick to wrap my arms around his neck, legs around his waist as he takes me through the back stairwell that I keep forgetting exists. 

Clay sits me down on my bed, right next to the end with the window where he knows I like to sit. Then he leaves, and I watch him walk across the pavement below in the direction of our weapons, which I really hope haven't been stolen in the time it took him to bring me up here.

Thankfully they must not have been, as Clay returns without another word only a few minutes after. No weapons in sight, he's even unbuckled the spares he didn't use during our practice fight.

"No weapons" he confirms, hands held in the air. "Just us. Nobody around either." I let out a sigh I hadn't realised I had left in me, pulling the sleeves of Clay's hoodie I'm wearing down over my hands. He's bigger than me, so the hoodie is already oversized. Now I probably look as if I'm being swallowed by the fabric.

"Feel alright?" he asks, brushing my hair back into place. It's always a disheveled mess, I don't know why he bothers. He straightens my glasses, pushing them up and onto my forehead. 

I pull Clay down by his collar, pressing our lips together in a gentle kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. He sits beside me, crossing his legs under him like I always do. 

"I know it's hard, but try not to dwell on it." He runs a hand through my hair ever so softly, and it amazes me how someone with such strength can be so gentle. "It'll scar, but it's only a distant memory. A sign of what we've been through." 

He smiles sweetly, a genuine, wide smile that could brighten a dark room. "A very special person taught me that valuable lesson. I try to believe him, and I can't always, but it's progress. We all move on." 

The few seconds of sorrow I catch in those green eyes makes my chest ache. I remember telling him those things, and to know that he tries to believe it is a huge step for him.

"I'm proud of you." I bring our faces closer together,leaning in to kiss a scar on Clay's jawline. "I know it's hard too. But we heal, and we move on." 

One by one I kiss each scar across his pretty little face, savouring the way his fingers tangle in my hair as I do so. He presses his lips to my forehead, humming contently against my skin. 

I tilt his chin upwards to kiss the scar on his neck before pulling away completely to look him in the eyes. Warm eyes, glossy and soft in the afternoon sun. 

"This doesn't excuse your lame attempt at combat" he giggles, and I kiss him again to shut him up. His hands drift to my waist, slipping under my shirt and resting on my hips. 

It's been so long, too long, since it's been just him and me. A little pause, just for us. Nobody else around to worry about. Because right here, right now, I'm here with him. 

And for today, that's all that matters.


	33. Predictably Problematic

-George's POV-

"How do you expect me to fight someone invisible?!" 

I watch as Clay swings at Nick's stomach, stopping his blow just before contact. It's pretty amusing to watch, as they're not using swords incase Nick stabs Clay on accident. Just because he's invincible for now doesn't mean that he can't be injured, so they're using sticks in place of actual weapons.

For now.

But what if it isn't just 'for now'? What if it's forever, and I fail? What if I don't manage to kill Darryl, or Techno gets to me first? It's likely, and has almost happened before.

Twice.

At the rate he's going, he's probably preparing another attack right this second. Plotting my inevitable demise, which I'm trying to believe isn't inevitable. It's a hard task. 

I redirect my attention to the fight that I'm supposed to be taking notes on. Clay thought it a better idea for me to watch him fight someone more experienced. Nick complained that Clay would make him look bad because of his advantage, and Clay retorted that he makes him look bad even when visible.

And that's how it started. They've been at it for five minutes without a break, and I'm debating whether it's for my benefit or because they simply want to beat the shit out of the other. 

Knowing them, it's probably both.

"Oh stop whining Sappitus Nappitus" Clay smirks, and a pang of guilt rings through me as I remember Nick can't hear him. "Clay says to stop whining" I repeat so Nick can hear, and I don't know why I bother. It only makes it worse, but the guilt got to me.

"Add the nickname" Clay whines, ducking an attack that surprisingly wasn't too far off target. "You're supposed to be my translator, so translate accurately." 

"I'm not sure 'translator' is the right word" I mutter, deciding to obey his wish any way. I force the poshest voice I can as I correct my words. "Sorry Nick, my mistake. Allow me to correct myself."

Nick looks away for a little too long, surprising Clay, who swings his stick into the side of Nick's face. Which immediately causes another fight, and I sigh as I watch it unfold.

"Your definition of 'non-contact' seems to be a little off, Clay block." An argument between these two is amusing to say the least, as to Nick, he's arguing with nothing. 

Despite being unable to hear Clay's retorts, he's able to predict what he says pretty well and respond accurately alone or every time. It shocks Clay himself, who seems a little annoyed he's too predictable with his words. 

"It's easy to guess how you'd respond" Nick laughs, jabbing towards Clay with his stick. "I've known you so long. Plus you're predictable." 

"Predictability is good for others, and not for yourself" I say, earning the attention of the other two, who've thankfully stopped squabbling. 

Thinking back to watching Nick fight, he did a lot better than I thought he would. When Clay suggested Nick fought him, I laughed I thought it so ridiculous. I was convinced he was joking, and that Nick wouldn't land a hit anywhere near him.

Yet Nick did pretty well, and his aim wasn't drastically far off with many swings. He would've hit Clay a few times, none exactly where he would've wanted to, but with enough accuracy they'd near the desired spot. 

It's because Clay is predictable to Nick. Not only with words, but with actions. They've known each other so long that Nick can predict where Clay will strike, where he'll dodge to and how he deals with certain situations. Must be how they can communicate so well through actions alone. 

Even thinking back to Nick telling me about Clay, he predicted so much right. He knew what Clay would do, and how he'd react to certain things. He also knew that Clay would bring me to this place to stay. 

Predictable. Not to everyone, but to a select few. I'd imagine Clay and Nick trained by duelling each other regularly, which is why they improve so fast. They're having to try new things to catch the other off guard, because they remember each other's moves. 

Hence how Clay caught Illumina off guard so quickly, but took a lot longer to land a single hit on Nick. Illumina doesn't know how Clay fights. He's said to be a great fighter, matched by none except maybe Techno himself, but Nick gives him a hard time. Experience, that gives me an idea.

"How many times have you fought Skeppy, Nick?" I ask, comparing their fighting styles. I've seen Skeppy fight a few times, but it's not been my main focus in those situations. 

From the few occasions I've seen, he's fast. Unlike Nick, who tries to calculate his strikes, Skeppy doesn't use as much time on accuracy. His speed is normally his advantage, he can get close to targets before striking. 

Accuracy from afar isn't necessary when you're close enough to push the full blade through your opponent's stomach. 

Also probably why Skeppy has a smaller weapon. He doesn't fight with a sword like all the others, he uses an axe. Which would make sense for his style. An axe would strike more accurately, and wouldn't get lodged in someone like a sword would. 

It's also more practical, a small axe would be far easier at high speed than dragging a sword. Vincent uses long twin swords, he doesn't need to come anywhere near in a fight. Zak's opposite, probably why they train and fight together.

"Zak? Couple times" Nick replies. He throws the stick aside, pulling out a broad blade. About the size of a dagger, but built more like a claymore. Wider, with a blunt edge like an axe. 

"I see where you're going with this..." he drawls, examining the weapon in the sunlight. It's rusted slightly, which is unusual for Nick. His blade are pristine, I see him cleaning them often. Yet this one is old yet and not at all damaged, showing no signs of usage in a long time.

"I'll try my best to mimic Zak's fighting style. But we aren't very alike, so it'll be a little bad." Clay makes a sarcastic comment that I'm glad Nick can't hear for sake of another fight, but I can't help making one of my own. 

"Making excuses already?" I laugh, not sure where the sudden burst of confidence has come from. Maybe it's the need to prove myself as capable, more than just a weakling who passes out when they attack someone. Not anymore.

"Cocky. It's slowly making more sense as to why you're Clay's soulmate." He cleans off the blade, unbuckling some of his others to become more agile. "Just because you're my best friend's boyfriend doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you."

"Wouldn't want you to. Zak certainly won't after he finds out I killed his boyfriend." Nick laughs hollowly, an awful guttural sound. It occurs to me then that Nick may be friends with Zak or Darryl. Possibly both. Yet he's still using his knowledge to help me kill Darryl. 

"True" Nick pulls out a secondary blade, small and thin and as clean as his other blades, which is far more worrying. "Bring it." 

Clay unhelpfully cheers us both on as we duel, and I focus my energy into observing where Skeppy would strike. Nick always aims for my throat or my stomach, avoiding my arms when it'd probably be easy to land a hit or two there. Maybe Zak's one to go for the kill instead of wounding or disarming first.

Careless. Zak's fighting style is less about accuracy and more about speed. Surprise attacks are probably his specialty, but he's still deadly even after the initial shock wears off. 

I think back to the market fight. Zak was the only person during that fight to kill someone, and it was over in seconds. He appeared out of nowhere, worrying more about getting in front of Darryl than striking the enemy. 

He swung almost blindly, in the right direction but with little care as to where his blow would land. If it was luck or something else I'm unsure, but it killed the cloaked assassin after a few seconds. One strike was all he needed.

This proves my suspicion. The assassin died quickly, but not instantly. Struck at the neck, close enough to do the job but not precisely where he should've hit. 

"My height isn't helping this" Nick huffs, swinging at my neck but misjudging his shot. "Zak is the shortest in most fights, and he's learnt to use that to his advantage. He's even shorter than you, impressively."

I put a little more effort into the next strike, hearing Clay snort at Nick's comment. "You'll notice he always strikes too low, that's because of his height. He doesn't bother adjusting his aim based by someone's height like the rest of us would."

"He's more for speed, and less for accuracy. You can't catch Zak off guard easily, you're better outsmarting him. Don't try to fight back with the level he swings, time your hit right and make it accurate. You'll get him with one blow if you aim well enough."

"Are you suggesting that I kill two people?" I stop fighting back in shock, and Nick decides to end the fight there. He shrugs casually, as if murder is a part of everyday conversation. "If it comes to it. You probably can't kill Zak realistically, I'm only helping prepare you for the worst case situation."

"Plus you have Clay." He jabs a finger in the direction of the blonde, who's watching Nick intently. "He's not as cowardly as you, and I'm sure he has no problem with killing Zak."

Clay forces a smile, which looks so fake Nick wouldn't ever believe it. I don't either, so I don't know why he bothers. "Ignore Nick" he says, watching the younger boy buckle his weapons back in place. "He's a little over the top sometimes. Don't worry about Zak too much, he shouldn't appear anyway."

That would've been normal, as if not for his raised tone as Nick's eyes widen. He's looking down the next cross section, where two figures have turned onto our street.

"You just jinxed it."


	34. Sudden Separation

-George's POV-

As soon as that last sentence left Clay's mouth, Zak appeared. Vincent close behind him, but luckily only those two. Nick's eyes widen rapidly, and he hesitantly jabs the sword he was midway through placing in its' scabbard at me instead.

"Acting. Go" he breathes, and I get the message. Quickly I crouch down, backing up against the nearest wall and cowering. It's better if Zak thinks less of me anyway. 

"What're you doing?" Vincent asks as he spots Nick. "You know Techno wants him all to himself, right?" Nick smiles in greeting, taking a couple steps in their direction. "Just keeping tabs on him. Make our job easier."

"Know his target?" Zak asks, and immediately I start panicking. Nick can't defend me, and he can't stop Zak from taking my profile and checking. I'm done for if Zak knows.

"Does it matter?" Nick laughs. "You say it like he's capable of killing them anyway." Although it hurt, mostly because I still believe it's true, it was a good save. "Fair point" Zak shrugs, stepping around Nick and towards me.

"What're you doing around this area? Got a death wish?" He pulls out that iconic axe, wooden, but encrusted with near a hundred diamonds. Zak is known for that axe, and people wouldn't dare touch it if they saw it laying around. 

It's probably worth several large apartments and a small fortune, but nobody is dumb enough to mess with it. Not given its' owner, or the just as iconic symbol engraved into the wood. Elite assassin property. 

I keep my mouth shut and my head low, begging that Zak isn't looking for a fight. Clay seems nervous he is, standing between me and Zak incase the shorter decides to stoke for the fun of it. Skeppy has caused a few fights before, some which have gotten out of hand and messy pretty quickly. 

Thankfully he backs off, and it takes all of my willpower not to release the breath I've been holding in the entire time. Showing any sign of weakness could cost me. 

"Whatever. I've got somewhere to be" Zak scoffs, fixing his hair and tucking his weapon away. "Another meeting with 'Mr high and mighty'? Damn you must've done something to piss him off this time." 

"Could he possibly do anything worse than what he did last time?" Vincent adds with a laugh, most likely recalling the memory. Zak is known for elaborate pranks, so I'd imagine he tried one of those against Techno. 

"Lava is a perfectly acceptable way to dispose of corpses" Zak tries to justify, and the other two laugh. "Not that, idiot. Although burning the target profiles of the dead bodies wasn't helpful either."

Nick earns an elbow to the stomach as Vincent feels the need to remind Zak of the incident they're talking about. "Y'know, the time when you tried to convince Techno the lapis blocks by the hub were actually water?

Zak's face flushed red in embarrassment, only causing the younger two to laugh even harder. Despite the situation, even Clay snickers. "It almost worked too..." Zak grumbles.

"Yeah, until you forget that he's Techno and can MLG like it's nobody's business." 

"God I hate that guy" Zak fumes, not used to his schemes failing. His track record seems pretty flawless with pranks except for Techno, he's especially keen on trolling Darryl. People like to laugh about the latest attempt of his, seems to brighten the atmosphere of the city.

"Don't we all" Vincent replies. "Come on, get your ass to your meeting." He shoves Zak further down the street, waving a goodbye and turning to me. "Think we just leave him here?" he asks, and Nick nods. "Probably best." 

The two elite assassins walk away, joking to each other about something. Nick waits until Vincent turns around to turn back and say goodbye discretely. He plays it off pretty well, using the casual elite assassin flare to look like he's just being cocky.

Nick's goodbye is a cocky smile, followed by a salute. Characteristic of him I've noticed, but he makes sure to wave as well. It would look strange to anyone else, but the wave was in Clay's direction.

"Sayonara, shortie." 

Clay waves back with sad eyes, but my attention is focused elsewhere than pitying the separated best friends. Instead it remains on Zak, who's walked off in the complete opposite direction of the other two assassins. He's heading to a meeting with Techno, apparently.

Alone.

"I know what you're thinking" Clay says over his shoulder, watching Zak with narrowed eyes. "You're probably right. But that's risky, George, and you know it. What if Techno notices and attacks?"

Absentmindedly I shove Clay aside, paying too much attention to Zak to listen to him. We can't lose him. If he disappears suddenly down an alleyway or notices we're following, there's no chance of us finding him.

"Are you even listening to me?" Suddenly my vision is blocked by Clay, who's decided to stand in front of me in hopes of drawing my attention away from Zak. "Get out of the way." I try to push him aside, but that's unsuccessful. Instead I duck his outstretched arms, walking off in Zak's direction. 

"George this is dangerous!" Clay pleads, trying time get in front of me in hopes I'll stop. He's only making this harder, I could lose sight of Skeppy from having to dodge him so much.

"I don't care" I spit back in a low voice. "Clay, this world is dangerous. Everything is, and everyone too. I learnt that, took me some time, but I did. You can't trust people."

"You can trust me!" Clay retorts. "I've proven that. There's a reason we have soulmates, George. It's so we have someone we know we can trust. For you, that person is me. I won't hurt you."

I sigh, a certain event resurfacing at the edges of my memory. It's blurry and faded, has been since I first remembered it. Most details are missing, but I get the picture just fine. It's that event, the one where I killed the only person I'm supposed to trust. 

"Confident words from the person who was murdered by their soulmate. You tell me you won't hurt me, and I believe that." Sometimes I don't, and old memories resurface of countless betrayals, but I decide to leave that out.

"But I hurt you. You're supposed to believe I'm safe, and then I do this to you. It must've confused you so badly at the time..." Clay lets me talk, taking my hand and pulling we in the right direction as he manages following Zak.

We follow him to a large building on the west side of town, one that towers over its' surroundings menacingly. The city is derelict on this end, normal for buildings so far out from the city centre. 

Rusting pipes protrude from damaged walls, plaster broken and bricks crumbling. Most places we pass look unstable, some looking near collapse. I silently plead that we won't go into one of them, and sigh in relief once I realise the state of the building Zak enters. 

Safe, but not extremely. Damages enough that it blends in with the surrounding buildings, but safe at a closer glance. Walls maintained well, the few cracks that show patched up with careless amounts of plaster to make the overall effect still withstand.

There's tightly boarded up windows at the bottom, but as I drag my gaze higher up, I notice the boards become more sparse. Some windows open entirely, shattered glass enough evidence that the building is abandoned on the upper floors.

"You should stay here." Clay pulls me into an alleyway as soon as Zak stops, deciding to wait outside of the building. Presumably for Techno, or until his meeting starts.

We keep an eye on him from afar, making sure to duck further into the alleyway in which we hide whenever he looks in our direction. "I'll follow Zak. Chances are those hallways are narrow. If you're noticed, you'd be dead before you even get a chance to run."

"So you want to do this alone? Are you crazy?!" I search Clay's face for a sign that he's joking, and find myself empty that there is none. He's a stoic character, one that won't show fear. But he's serious too, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he isn't playing around.

"You're crazy" I repeat with a long sigh, checking Zak's position again. Still outside, definitely waiting for someone specific. Most likely Techno, or whoever may be having a meeting beforehand. 

"Of course I am, you're my soulmate." I roll my eyes, pushing him away from me. "And you're still ridiculous. So I'm just supposed to wait here for you?" Clay nods, readjusting his weapons in their holders. He moves the closer range weapons so he can reach them faster, buckling an extra dagger to his leg and hiding it with his jeans.

"You wait here until I come back. I'll listen in to their meeting, and come straight back when it's finished." Clay offers me a reassuring smile, and I force myself to smile back. 

There's so many things wrong with this plan, it's so rushed and underprepared. But we don't have a choice. This information could be vital. If we know Zak's location at a certain time, we'll know exactly when to attack Darryl without interference.

The dread and sick feeling trapped inside me must show on my face, as Clay looks more concerned. "You'll be fine, sunshine. Just remember what Nick and I have taught you. It's unlikely you'll be attacked anyway."

Desperately I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. I know he'll be ok, that there's a low chance he'll even be spotted, but there's a part of me that can't help but worry. 

It feels strange to worry about someone other than myself. I've never been close enough to anyone else, never cared enough about them to worry when I'm not with them. 

Maybe it's a deeper fear of being all alone again. An invasive and stupid though that I'm quick to block out when I remember Clay can't die. He can only be hurt, yet I find no comfort in that. He's reckless, prone to injury from his own careless actions. But that's just the way he is.

"Be careful. As cautious as you can be, and come back as soon as you can." Clay nods at me confidently, a bright smile on his face. It makes me feel a little more at ease, but I know he's only acting confident for me. 

"Of course" he smiles, checking quickly to see if Zak has moved. By the sudden urgency in Clay's actions, I'm guessing he has. "Promise me you'll be careful" I plead childishly, knowing I'm being clingy and not caring. Not now that I know he's ok.

"I will. And you better be too. No doing anything dumb." I nod, opting for actions over words. Mainly because I'm not sure I'd be able to speak evenly without sounding scared. I have to be strong for him.

"I'll be back before you know I'm gone." Clay presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before pulling away. He gives me a small wave as he runs off towards the towering building. I watch him until he disappears, then force myself to look away. Stay in the alleyway and it'll be fine.

I hope.


	35. Forgotten Good

-Clay's POV-

Zak seems distracted. As soon as he's inside he loses the confident facade. The sorrowful look on his face makes me wonder if he's about to burst into tears. He look defeated, leaning against the wall in the main lobby and sighing deeply.

The building looks to haven been a hotel in its' prime. A dignified one at that. The battered furnishings, despite their age, are evident of a wealthy owner. Shattered chandeliers still hang limply from the ceiling, glass shards scattered across the floor from their partial destruction.

Zak looks to be on the verge of a panic attack. He's breathing deeply, hand over his chest with his head against the wall. Lucky for him, the room is empty. Silent, except for the dull whirring of an elevator I'm surprised is still functioning in a building of this condition. 

"This is fine..." Zak breathes, eyes scrunched up tightly. "It's fine. That won't happen again, it's fine. It won't repeat, it won't." He keeps his voice low, trying to convince himself everything is fine when he clearly knows damn well it isn't. Something is badly bothering him after 'last time'.

What happened last time?

Dave is ruthless, I know that much. But what could he have possibly done to scare Zak so badly? This is Skeppy, the one causing others to panic, not panicking himself. What extent would Techno go to to get what he wants? And how far with his own team, let alone one of the few people who could be considered Dave's friend? 

"It's fine Zak, it's fine." He knots his fingers nervously, opening his eyes to cautiously scan the room. Most likely expecting Dave to appear at any second and do whatever he did last time.

The lift lets out a dull ringing noise, echoing through the lobby. Both Zak and I watch nervously as the doors open, revealing a figure dressed in a dark cloak. Black and red, wearing a pure black mask to match. The eyes aren't visible, blocked out by a white haze. 

"He is ready to see you now, Mr Ahmed." Zak nods casually, burying the raw fear I saw barely a minute ago. Smothering it with that facade of confidence he always hides behind and a cocky smile for good measure. 

The three of us enter the elevator, a cramped space probably fit only for two people. It takes so much concentration not to knock into either person and give away my position. For once I'm thankful that nobody can hear me, as my heavy breathing definitely would've given me away. 

If we're meeting with Dave, Zak and possible others, I'll be cornered before I know what's happening. Sure I could take one of them easily, but fighting three or possibly more would be a challenge despite my advantage. 

Plus this building is unfamiliar to me. Knowing Dave, there will be some sort of secret passage or an extra route to take. An escape route of sorts, not that Dave would dare flee from the enemy. Unless that enemy is me, he wouldn't dare back down in the slightest.

After what feels like far longer than thirty seconds, the elevator reaches the correct floor. The entire time spent inside was silent, Zak trying to act confident whilst looking anywhere except the hooded figure. Can't blame him, they look intimidating. 

I follow Zak down a long corridor, cautious to follow his every move. There's many loose floorboards, some of which aren't noticeable from far away, so I'm thankful to be following someone who seems to have walked this same corridor many times before. 

The elite assassin stops outside of a door near the end of the hallway. I've been scanning the surroundings as we pass them, and have noticed the windows aren't boarded up on this floor. To my surprise we aren't far up from the ground still, thankfully. 

Zak knocks on the door, waiting patiently for a reply. Which he must get, as he shortly after enters the room. I follow him in quickly before the door is shut behind us.

And locked, I realise, as a dull click echoes behind me. 

To my relief the room is spacious, to the extent where I can stand without fear of bumping in to anyone. Looks like a typical meeting room, one used by the CEO of a successful company. 

Much like the downstairs, it's adorned with expensive items. Plush rugs and a sparkling chandelier, miraculously in near perfect condition. Definitely more well kept, yet still with signs of frequent usage.

However, the person on the other side of the desk isn't Dave. It's another of those figures, looking almost identical except for one small detail. A black halo adorns their head, attached loosely to either side of the hood. Not a real halo, but made to look like one from afar. 

Stood either side of them are two more matching figures to the one in the elevator. Another two stood either side of Zak, who, despite his attempts to stay calm, is visibly panicking. The one sat in the chair is the only one with a halo, so I presume they must be the leader. Presumably also the person Zak is so fearful of. 

They aren't Dave, that much is obvious. None of the figures are built the same, even with the cloaks I can tell. Whoever they are, they don't want their true identity known. Maybe Zak knows.

"Take a seat" the figure with the halo tells Zak, pointing to the chair opposite him. Definitely not Techno, they don't sound the same. Nor do they sound familiar, their voice low and husky.

"Yes sir" Zak is quick to respond, bowing in the doorway before sitting down. Whoever this person is, they must have a lot of power to have that effect on an elite assassin. Let alone Zak, who's known to be unruly and listen to none.

"You've brought what you should've?" they ask, holding out their hand expectantly. Gloved, hiding their soulmate band from view. The figures stood around the room remain stationary and silent. 

Observing, but for what purpose? As bodyguards? From who? Dave? Elite assassins? Devotions? Someone else? Who would find them here?

Are they scared Zak will attack them?

"Of course." Zak pulls out a handful of papers, laying them on the splintered desk in front of the hooded figure with the halo, who takes them immediately. 

Zak watches nervously as they shuffle through the papers one by one, which I deem important enough to take a look for myself. Carefully I creep over to examine the papers, trying my best to take in as much information as I can. 

Target profiles, and a lot of them. Seven to be exact, none of which are people I know. Their owners aren't with them, but I quickly find those out when Zak pulls out another piece of paper. Names of the hunters, each labelled to their target profile accordingly.

"Raided the hub again, have we?" The figure with the halo laughs, a cold and sadistic sound. "No sir" Zak is quick to respond. "People Techno has been talking to recently."

"I need more information, Zakary." I watch the elite assassin flinch at the use of his full first name. Nobody calls him that, he hates it. Yet this figure does, and Zak isn't fighting back.

"I'll provide more" every response from Zak is quick, terrified and thought out. He's preparing what to say and exactly how to say it. This must be important. "I can provide more! I have spies on everyone on this list-"

"That isn't enough!" The figure suddenly stands, slamming their hands down on the table. Both Zak and I jump back from the sudden movement, but the other hooded figures don't even flinch. 

Zak has curled into his chair, looking as if he'd rather sink through the floor. Be anywhere except here. There's genuine fear in his eyes, and I'm terrified to watch what comes next.

"You know what information I need!" The leader of the group yells, halo swaying around their head. "I need more than these! I need information on the other members. On that Vincent boy, as well as his soulmate. On Nick, and the state of his soulmate."

Papers fly across the room in the mess of yelling, nobody bothering to pick them up. Valuable and confidential information laying across this room, things people would quite literally kill to know. Yet this person doesn't care.

"Dave has a dead soulmate. I need information on them, and I need more on his hunter, who you've failed to locate. His target, this George boy you've briefly mentioned. I'm in need of desperate information about him."

"I can get it!" Zak pleads, hands thrown up over his head. Knees drawn into his chest, curled up in the chair as far away from anyone else as possible. "I have new information on Dream!"

The leader stops at the mention of my name, slowly sitting back down. Papers are still strewn across the room, but nobody seems to care.

"On Dream. What business do I have with a boy who's been missing for a month?" Zak is quick to respond as usual. "He's more than that! This boy is important! Techno is looking for him! He believes that Dream could take him down, and has a bounty out for Dream's capture!"

"I'm not interested in money." the figure spits. "I know sir! But that's not all!" Zak produces another piece of paper, this one I recognise. It's a target profile of someone I do know, only because I recognise the target. 

It's me.

"An old profile" Zak explains, pushing it across the desk with shaking hands. "Belonging to Sapnap. He was previously Dream's hunter, but his target profile has since changed. This is an old copy."

"And what is so important about this?" The leader drawls, drumming his fingers on the table. "Sapnap and Dream have known each other for a long time. As soon as he disappears, a new boy appears in town. Nick is softer on him."

Zak knots his fingers together under the table, a nervous habit of his. "The boy is George. He hasn't killed his target, obviously, and his soulmate band is black. My suspicion is that he's Dream's soulmate-"

"I don't need suspicions I need answers!" The leaders stands again, signalling to the two figures behind Zak. They nod, moving in and grabbing one of Zak's arms each from behind. "Proof! I need proof! Not theories! I thought you learnt that last time!"

The next thing I witness isn't at all what I was expecting. Zak is thrown to the floor, the two figures who were restraining him now with their swords at his throat. "You know the price you pay, Zakary. You know what's at stake."

"Don't hurt him please!" Zak screams, thrashing his legs out. "I swear I'll get results! I'll get proof! Just don't hurt Darryl!" 

The leader nods, laughing in that cold tone again. A hollow noise, psychotic and unforgiving. I didn't think it possible, but I've found someone worse than Technoblade.

"You better. You know the power we have. You mess up, and that boy won't see the light of day again." The leader draws a line across their throat, signalling the intent of his actions. "Messing with the wrong crowd, aren't we? An elite assassin, helpless. Because of what, exactly?"

Zak continues to scream, begging for help that won't arrive. One of the two stood over Zak repositions their blade over his arm, pushing it in ever so slightly. A steady stream of blood bleaches Zak's blue clothes, turning them a muddy purple colour.

"Well?" The leader drawls. They nod to the figures restraining Zak, one of them pushing the blade in further. "Why do you do this? Answer me!"

"Because of my soulmate!" Zak screeches through gritted teeth. "Because that's how this world is! Because I know if the roles were reversed, he'd do the same for me in a heartbeat!"

"That he would" the leader replies. "A measly city medic, putting his life on the line for an elite assassin. Unheard of really, but I know what Bad is like."

Suddenly they signal for the hooded figures to move away, leaving Zak on the floor with a gash in his arm. It takes him a few seconds to get up, pressing his hand to the wound to staunch the bleeding.

"You may leave" he leader says with a casual wave of their hand. "I expect results by next week, or I will take further action."

Zak nods, bowing again. "Thank you, sir. He's sir." He leaves the room, running towards the elevator. I barely make it inside before he forces the doors to close. 

We reach the lobby, Zak in pure silence the entire time. No hisses of pain, no concern for his wound or situation. Just a hollow look in his eyes as he forces deep breaths to avoid fainting. 

As soon as the door open, Zak runs out of the building. He ducks into a nearby alleyway, slumping against the wall. On the floor, in the middle of the cobbled streets. Out of sight to the world, shadowed in darkness. Blood seeping through his hand, spilling down onto the floor. His complexion pales, causing him to sway from blood loss.

And that is where, for the first time, I see an elite assassin cry.


	36. Bubble Wrap Boyfriends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set during the events of last chapter (they’re happening at the same time).

-George's POV-

I'm left alone for no more than five minutes before someone else enters the alleyway. Immediately I'm thrown into panic, drawing my blade and holding it out in front of me threateningly.

Slowly backing away, I wait for whoever it is to step into the small streak of light pouring in from overhead. The figure stops in the stream of light, leaning against the wall casually. They don't seem to have noticed me, but I can't help wondering why they'd stop there. In the open, in sight of any passers by.

I can't believe my luck.

Darryl is leaning against the wall, sorting through some sheets of paper and ticking off rows. He mumbles to himself, patient names and medication assigned accordingly. I'm not good with this sort of thing, but I recognise a few names. Expensive and rare medication, which Darryl is listing off so casually.

He really is oblivious. To be out in the streets all alone, carrying resources people would kill for. Lists of supplies and locations of people, all of which he reads through aloud. 

Maybe the world was a little good to me after all. I've been assigned someone who can't fight, a medic. Someone so oblivious they probably wouldn't notice their hunter attacking from a mile off.

This is my chance. Right here, right now. I could easily ambush him, pin him against the wall and slit his throat. Problem solved. It'd be so easy, wouldn't take the skills I'm lacking. What I know would be enough, it's not like he can fight back anyway. We're a similar size, I could easily overpower him.

The temptation is overwhelming, especially when I catch a glimpse of the medic's brightly coloured soulmate band. Purple, that's what Clay said. A normal colour, that of an alive soulmate. 

Not like mine, black and drained of its' original colour. I've seen Clay's wrist, the colour our soulmate band is supposed to be. Even if I can't see its' true colour, it's beautiful. Turquoise, he said it was. A perfect mix of green and blue.

There's two things that stop me from making a move. One is Clay's position. If he were to become visible at this moment, it could get him killed again. Imagine he's following Zak around, then suddenly Zak can see him. He'd be caught off guard, and would end up in the same position all over again.

If he dies for a second time, I can't save him.

The second thing that stops me is embarrassing. Despite trying to ignore it, the fear of the consequences murder will have on me loom over my head. Last time it scared me so badly I forgot the event entirely. 

My head created a fake story to help me cope with the trauma, even contracting amnesia to erase the event entirely. I forgot Clay, where I was and what I was doing. Not one memory remained until Clay explained everything to me. 

But now I know, I fear my memories won't come back just as easily this time. It could take days, weeks or even years for them to return. 

The amnesia could strike again and block out both memories instead of only the most recent one. I could forget Clay, forget my soulmate all over again. The memories even have a possibility of never returning again. 

It's too risky...

"Darryl what are you doing here?" A boy, who I recognise as the second medic from the market, approaches Darryl in the alleyway. Jacob, I think his name was, accompanied by his soulmate. The boy in the green scarf, who people only ever refer to as 'Mega'. 

"Oh me?" Darryl stuffs as many papers as possible back into his bag, scattering a few across the alleyway in the process. "Just getting some fresh air" he laughs awkwardly as Jacob shoots him a glare. 

"Getting some fresh air?" Jacob picks up the scattered papers, waving them angrily in front of the older. "With these papers?! Darryl you know how important these are! People would attack you for them and you can't defend yourself!"

Mega nods silently, picking up the final stray papers and handing them to the medics. "You know that you shouldn't be out unaccompanied, Bad. People like us get attacked so often, kidnapped by assassin groups and held for ransom." 

The blue-eyed boy pinches the bridge of his nose, scrunching up his eyes and sighing in annoyance. "For god's sake you're Skeppy's soulmate! Don't you realise how dangerous that is?! You're the most well-known and praised medic in Central City, people will be after you! Not to mention your hunter-"

"I don't need bubble wrapping Zelkam!" Darryl suddenly yells, giving the two younger boys an irritated glare. "I'm the oldest! Let me remind you I lived for a long time by myself in much more dangerous places than here, with a much larger reputation." 

He angrily shoves the remaining papers into his bag. "You act like I can't handle myself! Just because I'm not as skilled doesn't mean I'm defenceless! I don't need Zak to protect me all the time, he has more important things to do-"

"That's a lie and you know it" Jacob argues, Mega nodding in agreement from behind. "You know damn well that if you were hurt, Skeppy would drop everything to see you. It's a soulmate thing Darryl, we all do it. Understand that Zak has good intentions and only wants to keep you safe-"

"But I'm not a child!" Darryl protests, clenching his hands into fists. "You all do it, it's not just him! People don't worry about you half as much and you aren't much more able with weapons than I am!"

"I'm not stupid enough to wander the alleyways of Central City alone!"

The two medics argue back and forth for a few minutes, Mega only joining in to nod or shake his head. I pay close attention, hoping for something to slip in their angered outbursts. 

Nothing of importance is said for a while, but the argument does make me think. I sympathise with Darryl, as I come to realise I'm stuck in the same scenario. Here I'm stood, in an alleyway while Clay does the dangerous stuff. Mainly due to the convenience of him being invisible, but it's always the same. 

Clay is like Zak in a way, always trying to keep me safe. Trying to wrap me in the same bubble wrap and keep me safe from the world. His intentions are good, and I can't blame him. I'm incapable of fighting and prone to fainting when overwhelmed. 

We're all like it in a way. Even now, as I watch Mega cautiously watch over Jacob, it's clear that we're all the same. Jacob is right, it's a soulmates thing. Everyone wants nothing more than keeping their beloved safe, no matter how capable they are. 

I'm always trying to keep Clay out of harm's way, despite the fact he's a capable fighter and already dead. There's only so much more damage that can be done to him, but the thought of him getting hurt makes me sick. 

It's not just soulmates though. Some friends have it too, those ones that are just a little bit closer than everyone else. Like the way Vincent watches over Zak, despite them not being soulmates. 

I think back to the time Zak was climbing the tall tree, and Vincent was cautiously watching him the entire time. It's obvious Zak is entirely capable of climbing the tree, and despite his excuses of worrying on behalf of Darryl, it's obvious Vincent himself was still worried.

Like Nick is with Clay. Nick is a strange character, in the way he interacts with people. Probably because he never met his soulmate, he's become attached to someone else. That someone else is Clay, who he's willing to risk dying for. 

Betrayal, Nick is betraying the elite assassins by helping Clay and I. Punishable by death, he knows it, and Techno isn't afraid to follow through with that. Yet he still does it, and even protects me because of what I mean to Clay.

Something I'm guilty of myself. Back in the market when the fight broke out, I put my life on the line to save Nick's. Not for Nick himself, but for Clay. Because I know how much he means to him, and I know the effect it'd have on Clay. 

A small part of me also did it because of the amount of times Nick has helped me. It's strange how he knew we were soulmates without being able to see Clay, or even before I did. 

It's always for Clay. Over this past month, it's always him on my mind. He's the one I go out of my way to protect, the one I trust with my life. 

The one I love, my soulmate. The first person I let in since Charlie. The boy I fell in love with when I was convinced I wasn't meant to. 

Oh, how one person changes everything.


	37. Desperate Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is continuing from last chapter (this still takes place at the same time as the events of chapter 35, then moves back to the present day.)

-George's POV-

I focus my attention back on the arguing boys ahead of me, who miraculously still haven't realised I'm here. Their once calculated answers have reduced to yelling without meaning, but it'll make sense soon I'm sure. And I'm right, it takes a while, but eventually something worth hearing is said.

"I'm never even alone anyway" Darryl spits, folding his arms. "Nobody lets me. I'm trying to work, and people get in the way. Because apparently I'm incapable of taking care of myself-"

"You'll be alone tomorrow" Jacob cuts in. "Elite assassins are having a meeting late. I've got to watch the market square, with Mega's assistance. That means you're alone until the meeting ends." 

Darryl's complexion suddenly pales, he looks worried. Despite arguing for the past however many minutes about how he can be independent, the thought of it alone makes him anxious.

"Where's the meeting?" he asks quietly, avoiding Jacob's eyes. "Techno's usual. Just the normal meeting place, not that icky building on the outskirts." Jacob visibly cringes, earning a muffled laugh from his soulmate. "Hey as a medic, I can't look at that place properly! It's got to be crawling with infections."

He punches Mega's arm lightly, earning an elbow to the stomach in return. "Speaking of infections, that Amy girl is back at the market. Said she wanted to see you." Darryl rolls his eyes. "Didn't I tell you to deal with her?" 

Mega laughs, nodding enthusiastically with an 'I told you so' look directed at his boyfriend. "Oh please don't make me deal with Amy again..." Jacob whines, pulling at his hair. "If I hear one more thing about Jason I may fucking die."

"Language!"

Their laughter and whining doesn't last long, as a beeping noise suddenly echoes through the alleyway. Mega pulls out a walkie-talkie from underneath his scarf, pressing a button and holding it to his ear. The other two boys turn silent, waiting for an explanation.

The call doesn't last long, fifteen seconds at best before Mega ends the message. He returns the device to its' holder, looking to Darryl. "Zak. Third alleyway off Averell Street."

Darryl's eyes suddenly widen as he demands more information. "Is he hurt? How badly?" Mega only nods, wanting to use as few words as possible. I've heard around that he's mute, or at least is most of the time. If he's talking, it's important. 

That's all Darryl seems to need, as immediately he sprints out of the alleyway. The two soulmates wave a rushed goodbye to him, heading off in the opposite direction.

So where is Clay?

My question is soon answered when my own soulmate appears minutes later, strolling through the streets casually. Unharmed, calm and content. "Clay!" I call out, catching his attention. He smiles at me brightly, picking his speed up to a run until he reaches me in the alleyway.

"You alright?" he asks, and I answer him with a chaste kiss. "Guess so" he giggles, scanning my face for any sign of injury despite his words. "I'm fine" I reassure. "What did you find out?"

"A lot. Well, not a lot, but something I shouldn't have." 

We head back to our temporary home, Clay explaining to me what he just witnessed. A meeting that wasn't with Techno, but instead with a different group of people. People who're threatening Zak for information on the elite assassins and their associates.

"So how come you can see them in colour?" I ask, running through what Clay has told me about how being a Devotion distorts his vision. He can see flowers in colour, me, and Darryl, my target. Yet he's described these people in colour, as if he can see them normally.

Clay stops for a second, realising what he must not have before. "You're right. I did see them in colour, and I can't see any people in colour except you and Darryl. There must be a reason why..."  
{None of you noticed/mentioned this last chapter.}

"They all looked the same. Black and red cloaks, except for the leader. They wore the same outfit, but with that black halo I mentioned." Clay furrows his brows, searching for an answer he doesn't have. "Anyway, anything interesting you saw while waiting for me?"

We reach our home, and I watch Clay pull down the rusted ladder. He lets me climb first, as usual, then follows after. Apparently it's a safety precaution, but I've never bothered arguing. 

As soon as we're inside I shrug off my bag, throwing off my jacket and making myself comfortable in the main room. It's not spacious, a worn couch and a coffee table the only decorations, but it's good enough. 

"Actually I did" I respond at last, sighing deeply. This place makes me feel safe. Especially with Clay beside me, who lays across the couch with his head in my lap. "Continue" he smiles."

"Darryl appeared, and had an argument with that other medic boy, Jacob. I found out that Darryl is alone tomorrow night, the elite assassins are having a meeting." Clay's eyes light up, but no smile pulls at his lips. "Are you thinking about it?"

"Thinking about it?" I force a laugh, trying my best to fake confidence. "I'm doing it! This is my chance to catch him alone, to revive you!" The thought of Clay revived makes me giddy with happiness, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "You'll be alive again! You can see Nick again!"

Clay doesn't reflect my happiness. He sits up, turning to face me with a sad look on his face. "What if something goes wrong?" he mumbles, staring down instead of meeting my gaze. "Nothing will go wrong. He'll be alone! He can't fight, I'll be fine! It'll be easy."

When silence is my only response, I start to worry. "Isn't that exciting?" I ask nervously, desperate for a sign of hope from him. Happiness, excitement, something. Anything.

He meets my gaze, sorrowful green eyes staring back at me. His hand rests on the side of my face, cupping it gently. "You know you don't have to do this, right?" he mumbles quietly. "What happened to me wasn't your fault. You don't owe me revival, George. Don't feel forced to kill because of me."

"I was planning to anyway" I'm quick to respond, hoping to give him some reassurance. Truth is, guilt is my main motivator. Every day it eats me from the inside out, a pull on my heartstrings whenever I see the effect being a Devotion has on Clay. 

"I'm fine like this, seriously." Lies, it's all lies. "I don't mind. If it avoids the possibility of the damage it could do to you, I'm happy to stay like this." He can lie all he wants, but I know how much he longs to be alive again. 

"You aren't, Clay. Don't lie to me. I see the way you look at Nick, how badly you want your friendship back. If I was in your position, maybe I'd be ok with it. I'd have you, and I never had friends anyway." A sad thought, which I force myself to push aside. "But you have Nick. And he needs you, more than ever now that his soulmate is gone."

I take Clay's hand in mine, holding onto it tightly. I brush my thumbs over his scarred knuckles, noticing scars I never had before. He gives me a sad smile, which is an improvement. "You deserve your best friend back. I ruined your life, and I owe you it back." 

Clay immediately tries to argue, so I press my fingers to his lips. "Don't argue the truth. Even if you don't think it is, I do, and nothing can convince me otherwise. If not for you, I need to do it for myself. Guaranteed safety from Techno sounds amazing." 

I thread my fingers through his hair, admiring how pretty he is. Soft green eyes that glitter sadly like stars, accompanied by constellations of freckles scattered across his cheeks. "Plus who else is supposed to live up to your legacy?" I smirk. "They called you Dream from a reason. You're the one who can kill Techno."

He pulls my fingers away from his lips, closing the gap between us. For a few seconds I let him have this moment, before I pull away to demand an answer. "I'm insulted you'd stop me with your fingers. I kissed you when I needed you to shut up." 

"That's my response?!"

Clay lets out a characteristic wheeze. "Yep." He squishes my face with his fingers, laughing to himself in amusement like the child he is. "Whatever" I scoff. 

"No, but seriously" Clay responds, shuffling away a little. "Consider this. Like actually, pretend I'm not here. If you want to, do it. And I'll support you. I'll help, like I promised to." 

I find myself wanting him closer suddenly, the extent of what I'm planning to do catching up to me. My initial rush of confidence has worn away, reminding me what I have to somehow pull off

Another murder.

Kill another person, end another's life. Destroy another soulmate, another couple. After finding out what Zak goes through for his soulmate, all of which will be in vain. Breaking two hearts to mend mine. A life for a life.

This system isn't fair. 

Clay senses my fear, as he always does, leaning in to wrap me in a tight embrace. He threads our fingers together after, and I hold on tightly, searching for reassurance in those green eyes. The ones many would look into in fear, but I do in adoration. Thanking the stupid system that he's mine, and that I get to be his. 

"I know you can do it" Clay reassures, pressing his lips to my temple. He mumbles the rest into my skin, sending a rush of warmth through me. "Don't think otherwise. But you can't blame me for worrying."

Silence drags out uncomfortably until Clay can't handle it. "It's standard, by the way, for people to worry about one another. Especially lovers."

"I gathered that much. It must also be standard to feel completely comfortable around someone and yet nervous at the same time." Clay tilts his head down, bumping his nose into mine with a soft giggle. "What do you mean?"

"I mean how I feel safe here, but also nervous. Like how I get butterflies in my stomach whenever you do something cute, how I'm nervous I'll mess up a kiss but I still melt into it every time." 

I realise I'm rambling, but Clay seems intent on listening. "That sort of weird sensation when you feel all fuzzy and can't think straight. Makes you feel all warm and happy."

Another cute giggle leaves his lips before they connect with mine. Gentle, full of love yet so relaxed. It sets off that feeling, the one I'm used to around him. 

That sensation you get and yet can't describe, bubbly and weird but so perfect at the same time. Fuelled further by the taste of him, sweet and rich like vanilla. Perfect, like him and his stupidly handsome face. 

"Like that?" he responds again in that cute giggle, the one that makes me want to kiss him again and punch him all at once. Knowing, he knows damn well he has that effect on me, from the glint in his eyes to the cocky smile spread across his beautifully bruised raspberry lips. 

"Exactly like that. Don't lie, I know I have the same effect on you." His cheeks stain a rosy pink with blush, only proving my point. I smile brighter when I realise I can tell the colour, another thing I owe Clay for. "True. I love admiring the pretty turquoise shades." 

"Well enjoy them while you still can, you won't be seeing them for much longer." I rest my head against Clay's chest, listening to the dull thrumming of his worried heart beneath. My eyes threaten to close, and his must too judging by how his uneven breathing begins to slow as he slowly falls asleep.

"I'm killing Darryl tomorrow" I remind him, putting all the confidence I can muster behind those words. No response, just the slow rhythm of his heart and breathing mixing together as one. They sound so real, yet there's no point to them. They don't make him alive, only I can. Only I can revive him. 

"And you can't stop me."


	38. Before You Go

-Clay's POV-

"Dreamy..." George mumbles in a tired voice. He tugs at my sweater sleeve weakly, exhaustion still laying heavily over him. "Dreamy come lay with me...." 

His cute tired voice makes my heart melt, and for a second I almost give in. "Not now, Georgie." I push him away, but he grabs hold of my arm, clinging to it. "But why not?" he whines, dragging out the last word. "I wanna sleep, I don't wanna worry about killing people."

"Me neither, but sleeping isn't the answer." George opens his tired eyes only to roll them at me. I laugh at the silly look on his face, only annoying him further. 

"You never let me sleep in" I remind him. "Maybe someone just wants an excuse to cuddle." George scoffs, trying time hide his reddening cheeks. "Maybe they do."

"So you admit you're a simp?" 

"A what-" George chokes, laughing at the word he's convinced I must've made up. "Nothing, just something Nick would say." 

"You said that as your answer last time."

"Whatever." I watch as George recoils into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. "We should've got blankets" I note, realising he's still shivering. My response is a tired nod.

Today is the day. Planning and training took up a lot of time yesterday, leaving us both wanting to sleep in. Neither of us have slept the greatest, too anxious about what we somehow have to pull off. 

Should be easy, but you can never be sure. One medic, on their own. Two versus one, and I'm invisible. Someone inexperienced with combat against us two. I've been training for years, said to be the only one to rival Dave himself.

Yet I can't help but feel like someone else could. My thoughts keep straying back to what I saw yesterday, the hooded figures in that meeting. To what they did to Zak, the fear they're capable of inflicting on him despite how much power he has. Not many are capable of scaring the elite assassins. 

Although they are using Darryl against him, and here, people would do anything for their soulmate. No matter how much it puts someone through, they'll do it to save their soulmate. 

Zak is clearly posing as some sort of spy, gathering information on Dave. As well as everyone he talks to, and other members of the elite assassins. Including their soulmates and accomplices. 

I don't know the full extent of what he's doing, but I'm sure I'd do the same for George as he does Darryl. All I know is that if I was in Zak's position and George was in Darryl's, I'd do the same thing. 

For my boyfriend, who is currently trying to pretend he's asleep, yet I know he isn't. He's awful at pretending these things, so I don't know why he still bothers. "Sunshine?" I ask quietly, laughing when there's no answer. "I know you're awake, George."

"Why are you?" he asks, turning over and snuggling into my side. I wrap an arm over him comfortingly, noticing how uneven his breathing is. 

"I'm worried" I respond, earning a confused glance from George. His tired eyes stare back at me, turquoise through my vision. I still remember the beautiful brown colour they truly are, and can't wait until I get to see them like that again.

If I get to see them like that again.

Or ever again.

"You're worried? Clay you can't die, you have nothing to worry about." He rolls his eyes sarcastically, as if I've forgotten I'm dead. "Not worried for me, for you. As you are alive, and something could happen to you."

"You worry too much about me" George breathes into the crook of my neck, sending shivers up my spine. "It's hard not to worry about people you love. I still worried about Nick even when I thought he'd abandoned me."

"I'm partially convinced Nick is your soulmate too and this is a threesome." A weak attempt at humour, but it makes me laugh nonetheless. "I love him, of course. But not in the same way I love you." I pull away slightly to plant a kiss on George's forehead. 

We remain in comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain against the rusted windowsill. Since we lay together so often, we decided to push our beds together to make one double instead of two singles. Which is comfortable, until the beds push apart accidentally if you lean in the middle too much.

"It's normal to worry about people a lot, isn't it?" George suddenly asks quietly, wrapping his arms around me tightly as if he's scared I'll disappear. "Yes Georgie, it is. Especially about people you love." 

Slowly I run a hand through his dark hair, watching my fingers as they disappear and resurface through strands. His hair is thick and fluffy, soft to the touch. George watches me through half lidded eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

"Good" he mutters. "I worry about you and you're already dead. But you can still get hurt and that worries me." George leans against me, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt with white knuckles. "It's ok" I soothe, taking his hands in mine and holding them gently. "We'll get through this. Just try to get some sleep, you'll need it."

"Can I listen to your heartbeat?" he suddenly blurts, clasping a hand to his mouth immediately afterwards. "Sorry that was stupid ignore me-"

Carefully I lift George's head, resting it on my chest directly over my heart. He doesn't move for a few seconds, but upon realising the smile on my face, he slowly relaxes. "Thanks" he mumbles, keeping his sleeve to his mouth, making his response muffled. Like sweater paws, adorable.

"Now try to sleep" I respond, attempting to do the same. It doesn't take long until I watch George's eyes fall shut, long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes close. And I soon do the same, lulled to sleep by the comfort of my boyfriend safely in my arms.

~~~

-George's POV-

Nightfall creeps in as Clay and I set off towards our destination, the sky tainted with hues of orange and yellow. I'm getting better with colours, thanks to Clay. I owe him a lot, like this. His revival. 

Clay constantly reminds me that he doesn't believe I owe him anything, and that whether I choose to kill Darryl or not is completely my call. But despite his words, I can't help but feel like he's lying. To me, or to himself. 

There must be a part of him, deep down, that is begging for me to save him. So that he can see Nick again, see the world normally again. Live like a normal person, in the normal life I ripped away from him. 

Guilt still eats at me knowing I killed him, my own soulmate. Took away the second chance he could've used as a safety net when killing his own target. Clay never killed is, and if he's revived, someone will be reassigned him as their target. He'll also be reassigned a target of his own to kill.

At least it won't be Nick hunting him anymore. 

We make our way through the streets, avoiding the few streetlights littering the main paths. Avoiding their glow, remaining to the shadows. Weapons at our disposal, swords in scabbards and knives hidden below clothes. As I walk I can feel the knife strapped to my leg, a backup incase Darryl pulls off something we weren't expecting.

It's two on one, and Clay is invisible. Against a defenceless medic, without anyone to protect him. I try to remind myself of these facts as I follow Clay, who's resorted to taking my hand dragging me while I ponder my thoughts. They run wild through my head, most negative and only making me panic further.

Can I really kill another person?

What if the amnesia strikes again?

What if someone returns from the meeting early, or Darryl is caring for someone when we arrive?

What if I panic and can't pull this off?

When I resurface from my thoughts, I realise we've stopped. Clay is staring at me with wide eyes, sympathetic and concerned. "You ok?" he asks quietly, adjusting my glasses. I force myself to nod, biting back the unhelpful words I know I shouldn't say. 

No, I'm not fine. I'm scared and I'm panicking and I know I'm going to mess everything up.

I can't do this.

"You can do this" Clay tells me, as if reading my mind. He gives me a confident smile, squeezing my hands in reassurance. I take in their warmth, how our fingers thread together perfectly. Bare of gloves, our soulmate bands displayed for all to see. His turquoise, mine black. 

Soon to be turquoise once more.

"Remember the plan?" he asks, keeping his voice low as to not be overheard. His words are slow, dragged out to keep me in the moment and out of my thoughts. They threaten to invade my mind, crawling into my conscience as I desperately try to shove them out. Not now.

What am I focusing on? Clay, and something else. He asked me a question. The plan, that's what. Attention on the plan.

Focusing my thoughts back to Clay, I go over what we decided. His bright eyes are mesmerising, glowing from the dim shine of the surrounding streetlights. And for a few seconds I wish we weren't in this world, instead somewhere else. 

In a place where we don't have to kill for happiness, where I can look into his eyes and know he's safe, not under constant threat from his hunter. 

Where I can trust people, maybe even have friends. Where it's not normal to kill, normal is to never have that cords your mind. To be safe and happy in a home of our own, not derelict buildings and makeshift shelters. Somewhere safe, just for us. 

But this world gave Clay a second chance at living, and I have to be thankful for that much. Once killed he had another chance, a chance I refuse to let go to waste.

"You're going in first" I recite. "You'll attack Darryl, taking him by surprise. Once you've pinned him to the floor, I'll come in and slit his throat." Clay nods, urging me to continue. 

"Then we leave through the back alleyway" I point to a narrow street just off the cross section. The cross section where we danced in the middle of the street like it didn't matter, it didn't matter then-

Not now. Focus.

"And head back to our place" I manage to finish, earning a bright smile from Clay. "Perfect. Should be flawless, and over in 15 minutes." I glance over to the medic's shop, to the dim lights inside flooding the streets through the open windows. 

One person stands with their back to us, sorting through various medicines in a cupboard. Alone, the back room's light off. Nobody else with him. Just the head medic, Darryl, here without his elite assassin boyfriend, without anyone else to protect him. 

Just him, George. It's just him. 

Alone.

"You ready?" Clay turns to me, catching that sparkle from the lights in his eyes again. I can't help but admire the way it makes them glow, the beauty of the face few have been allowed to see. Just me, Nick and Techno, the last only by accident. 

The scars that litter his face each tell a story, backing up the glint in his eyes, the confident smile. He's probably done this before, planned a murder and maybe even executed one. Clay didn't speak much of his last, but I can infer enough. You only gain the reputation he did one way, and that through bloodshed.

Normal. That's normal for this world.

Normal as it can ever be.


	39. By My Side

-George's POV-

Killing Darryl is normal, George. It's normal for this world, and it's allowed. It's ok. 

So why does it feel so wrong?

I remember that thought clearly, the prominent one rushing through my head when I attacked Clay all that time ago. Almost two months ago, I realise, remembering Techno's report from the markets yesterday. They're still looking for Clay, the bounty for his capture increases. He's wanted alive, a complication Techno has failed to notice. 

Another problem. Once Dream is revived, Techno will be after him again. Instead of me, it'll be him. That's worse, I'd rather be in danger than have Clay be. He'd be under threat of his hunter as well as Techno, unless Techno is assigned him. His target will change if I pull this off, and I'll be safe.

Isn't that what you always wanted George? To be safe? That was the whole point, the whole reason everything lead up to this moment.

You didn't attack Clay because you needed to revive your soulmate, you attacked him because you wanted to be safe. Didn't give a shit about your soulmate, didn't care about them.

Just another ploy to get you killed George, weren't they? Not worth worrying about someone you're supposed to love, what's the world to decide who you should love? 

Selfish. I was selfish, and killed for my own safety. In trying to protect myself, I only put myself in more danger. My soulmate too, I messed everything up for the both of us. The person I'm supposed to love.

The person I do love. Even before I knew it was him, I loved him. Kissed him thinking his soulmate wasn't me, only to find out I was wrong. The world didn't need to decide, it was fate. I loved him all along.

Maybe the world knows how it's supposed to be. Can tell the future, knows who we'll fall in love with and assigns our soulmates according. Maybe the world is kinder than I thought it originally. Doesn't change the fact that I have to kill for happiness, but there's something to kill for.

Without a soulmate, there's not really anything to live for in this world. Constantly on the run, for what? I didn't trust anyone, didn't make any friends. Too afraid, shut everyone out. Past experiences got the better of me.

Then Clay came along. With his arrogant tone and bright smile, everything I never realised I wanted. A friend, more than that. Something to work for, someone to live for. Good in this world, a light in the darkness.

My boyfriend.

"Let's do this" I reply, taking hold of the sudden surge of confidence. Clay gives me a thumbs up, signalling to the path he's going to take. But he doesn't get a chance to, when I suddenly grab his shirt and pull him towards me.

"Kiss me one more time before you go" I plead, redirecting my eyes to the floor. "Incase I never get to do it again." Clay stares back at me, pulling away. "Swear to me that this won't be the last time I kiss you" he demands. "It isn't the last time."

"But what if it is-"

"It's not. Swear it to me."

"This isn't the last time." He nods, a small smile returning to his lips. "More confidently." I repeat it again, forcing a smile using the small amount of confidence I didn't realise I still had. "This isn't the last time."

Then my lips collide with his, an urgency behind his actions. He pushes my glasses up onto my head, cupping my face as I drag my hands through his hair. 

I want to drag out the moment for as long as possible, grabbing his sweater collar and pulling him back in for a second kiss as soon as possible. Savouring the taste of him on my lips, the sensation I'm not sure if I'll ever get back.

At last we break apart, Clay taking a step back. He gently knocks my glasses from my head, letting them fall back over my eyes. "Give me three minutes." He presses a final kiss to my forehead before running off, leaving me here in the street.

Alone.

I count the seconds in my head, knowing Clay wants precision. If he says he needs three minutes, he means three minutes. I want to get this over with as soon as possible, the reason I count. 

As soon as those 180 seconds are up, I'm heading in. He'll know that, be ready for it. It's not him I have a lack of faith in, I know he'll get it right. It's me, scared I'll mess it up like I did last time. I have him this time though, and I know I'm killing the right person. 

The negative thoughts rush back over me, invading my mind with all the reasons why this will go wrong. How it'll go wrong, the doubt that floods me. Desperately I try to push them out, even clasping my hands over my heads and humming a quiet melody to myself.

Which is probably how I don't realise the person behind me until I'm knocked to the floor. 

As soon as I realise what's going on I turn myself around, narrowly avoiding my head hitting the floor. Instead my back collides first, knocking my breath from me. 

I'm met with a familiar face, an elite assassin's smile curled around his lips. Despite the grin there's anger in his eyes, rage so thick they're practically engulfed by flames.

You shouldn't be here. The meeting should be taking place, on the other side of town. Not near here, nowhere near here. You shouldn't be here, but you are.

Skeppy.

"Shame..." he drawls, pressing his trainers into my stomach. From behind him I see my own hunter, watching the medic's building. 

"Couldn't see a trap from a mile off."

~~~

-Clay's POV-

It's harder than you'd think to find a way in. After scanning the place over a few days ago, I realised there was a vent system. Convenient, when you can't walk though a door like a normal person. 

As most shops do, there's a bell attached to the front door to alert the medics when someone enters. This makes entering through the front door impossible. Same with the back, both doors creak badly. My only option was the vents, which are surprisingly in a good condition.

I count down the seconds in my head as I crawl through the vents, knowing George will be doing the same. To making our timing perfect, spend as little of it here as possible. It's easiest that way.

I'd know from experience.

Carefully I pull off the vent lid, making sure that Darryl isn't directly beneath. It makes a small creaking noise, but nothing he should notice. Before entering the vents, I noticed he'd moved into the back room. That's why I cut our kiss short, I wanted to take this moment. 

Maybe I'll regret doing that later.

Slowly I lower myself into the main room, notching Darryl still in the back room. Sorting through some medication, a few bottles and syringes in his hands as he sorts them accordingly. I don't know why, but Darryl strikes me as the sort of person to have to rearrange everything after Zak puts them in rainbow order. 

Come to think of it, I'm sure he did that once.

I check through the window, waiting for Darryl to return to the main room before I strike. Looking for George, stood by the streetlight but just out of view. When I look over there, George is by the streetlights.

On the floor.

With two people stood over him.

One of which is Dave.

The other of which is Zak.

Shit.

Completely ignoring our plan, I head for the front door. There's no way back out through the vents, and I didn't think it a problem to exit through the doors when the only person to hear us would be dead. But Darryl isn't dead, and surely notices when I touch the door, setting the bell off.

I'm right, as I'm suddenly tripped from behind. Would've been good, had I not had this happen before. Quickly I spin myself around, catching the bell and throwing myself back at Darryl, knocking him to the floor. I knew he'd come when he heard the bell, but I didn't expect him to fight back, let alone throw the first punch.

"Darryl!" I hear someone yell, Zak, as I pin Darryl against the floor. "Almost worked" I respond quickly, then remembering he can't hear me. When I turn around I see Zak running towards us, Dave fighting George under the streetlight. 

Both have their swords drawn, George blocking each swing instead of attacking back. He looks terrified, shocked. I would be too if adrenaline wasn't drowning it out, having kicked in after the many attacks I've performed before. 

Zak swings for me and I let Darryl go, unsure of how much longer George can hold off Dave. Not very long, as when I manage to get away from Zak, I notice they're gone. I catch sight of Dave, sprinting down an alleyway by the cross section. He must be following George.

I sprint off after them, Zak and Darryl right behind me. Thoughts run wild through my head, wondering how this could've happened. What went wrong, or what we failed to notice. 

Did they spot us?

Was the meeting moved close to here?

What's going on?

I drown it all out, the prominent thought left my mission. No longer is it to assist George with killing Darryl, it's to save George from Dave. Adrenaline surging through me I will myself to run faster, notching I'm not even gaining on Dave. He's no faster than I am, keeping the gap between us even. 

I need to get closer, attack him from behind-

Something catches in my sweater. A knife, I realise, turning to see Zak's embedded in my clothes barely an inch from my skin. There's a wicked smile on his face, fuelled by anger. Zak is fast, nimble. Something I forgot, he's not weighed down my heavy swords like the rest of us. 

I try to pull free, tugging as hard as I can in the hopes the knife will rip the fabric and fall free. Zak cleverly twists the knife around, wrapping it in the fabric so tightly I can't pull away. He pulls back as I push forward, slowing me down as the distance between Dave and I grows. 

Zak reaches forward, grabbing my sweater with his free hand. I grab my sword and slice through skin, earning a gritted screech from the raven-haired boy. His soulmate catches up to us, pulling out a knife I hadn't realised he was carrying. 

The elite assassin suddenly stops pulling, pushing instead and sending me crashing to the floor with the sudden movement. I flip our positions as we fall, Zak craning his neck as it narrowly misses collision with the concrete. 

His shoulders are the first to hit the floor, narrowly avoiding his neck. He hisses in pain, swiping his axe as his soulmate calls his name. I don't bother fighting back and push him further against the floor before suddenly pulling away, sprinting after Dave. 

I turn a corner to see George, halfway up a ladder and climbing it with shaking hands. On the construction site, a ladder leading up the tall building where work was being carried out during the day. Smart of him, he knows Dave can outrun him on the ground. But he can only climb a ladder so fast. 

Looking up the building I feel the blood drain from my face. Adrenaline running thin, slowing from the few second I get to breathe before I need to climb that building. 

I'm scared of heights.

Doesn't matter.

Nervously I grip the ladder, forcing myself to climb. Yelling from below indicates Zak is following, and I hear him yell 'stay here!' to Darryl before the ladder creaks with the weight of another person. I force myself to look up, knowing the drop down will only make this harder for me. 

I need to save George. 

~~~

-George's POV-

The top of the building is thankfully flat, the space wide enough and close enough to other building to ensure a safe exit. Jumping between the building will be no problem, and I take the few extra seconds I hate to determine which path will be easiest to take.

Creaking echoes from the ladder, getting louder as Techno gets closer. I want to know how, why this happened. It was a trap, they knew what we were doing. 

How?

My safest route seems to be across the taller buildings, one I didn't notice at first. Only because of those extra few seconds. It's hidden behind some steel beams, kept up here for construction during the day. I've only ever come this way once. 

As soon as Techno appeared, I knew I had to get as far away as quickly as possible. That meant sprinting down the closest alleyway, a route I'm unfamiliar with. But when I saw this building, I knew I got lucky. 

When I try to make my escape, I suddenly realise Techno was closer than I thought. As I spin around to check how close, I'm knocked backwards, colliding with the steel beams. Blindly I try to swing my sword, but find my left hand caught. 

Techno nears me, swinging at my neck. I duck the blow, desperately trying to pull my wrist free from whatever it's trapped by. Dodging another few blows I pull again at whatever restrains me, suddenly freeing my hand with a snap from behind. 

Clay climbs the ladder, rushing towards Techno from behind. His moves are uncertain, and he misses by quite a lot. I use the moment to pull away from the beams, notching they're falling away from behind me. 

It's then I realise why Clay is so on edge. He's scared of heights, forced to fight on a platform at the top of a huge building. His complexion is ghostly pale, almost matching his mask. There's a deathly crash from below as something hits the floor. 

Clay manages to land a decent hit on Techno, the wound spurting a lot of blood. An unusual amount of blood for a Devotion, who are meant to be weak. Techno presses his hand to the wound, falling to his knees. Eyes wide, staring directly at where Clay's face is. He gasps, backing away.

"You're here."

"What?" Clay asks, not remembering Techno can't hear him. "I said you're here. How are you here? You're his soulmate?!"

Clay is stood in shock, eyes drifting from Techno to me. To my wrist specifically, eyes as wide as saucers as he gasps at the sight. Nervously I look down.

To the band that's no longer black.

But that means-

I turn to look behind me, noticing the steel beams are no longer there. Only two remain, the rest having fallen over the edge. The chord securing them in place has snapped on one side. 

I caught my hand in the chord. 

Did I-

A sickening scream echoes from below, anguish as a black band returns to turquoise, and a purple one fades to black.

——— End Of Book One ———

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Book One, Perception.
> 
> Book Two, Deception, is currently updating here. You can click the link below this note to get to there!
> 
> Thank you for reading Perception!


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